


Emperor's New Clothes

by eyemeohmy



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Backstory, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Character Study, Child Abuse, Dark, Dark Character, Discussions of Mental Health Issues, Gun Violence, Head Injury, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Sexuality, Sexuality, Slapstick, Terrorism, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence, just bad guys bein' bad guys, look it's a darkfic about ducks what can i say, nice canon you got there. be a shame if something dark and fucked up happened to it..., non-canon profanity, yes there's slapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 44,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: If you find a penny facing heads up, you'll have good luck. If you find it tails up, you'll only find bad luck. Either way, you get a penny, so it's win-win no matter the outcome.Aka the descent of Jim Starling and the ascent of Negaduck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to elaborate on a number of the tags.
> 
> This is a prequel/sequel companion piece to [To the End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093849). I don't want to say read it first, but there's a number of things that take place in that fic that are briefed upon in this one.
> 
> This fic doesn't involve the Negaverse, so Nega!LP and Nega!Gosalyn are different entities with different names, but are essentially their Negaverse counterparts. A number of characters and their powers/abilities have been nerfed down or altered. One small example is Jim owning/running a store, since I don't think he'd be making enough money from autograph signings. Well, could be residuals and whatnot from re-runs and sales bUT YOU GET IT.
> 
> The child abuse tag is in reference to Negaduck and his relationship with Nega!Gosalyn, though it does not include physical violence.
> 
> Discussions of mental health issues is skimmed briefly a few occasions, but never going into detail. It's kept fairly vague.
> 
> There are no guns which require bullets, for example, and some ideas rely on the more cartoon aspects of the universe.
> 
> If you feel I need to add anymore tags, please let me know. This fic is not divided in traditional chapters but parts.
> 
> Thanks much to [Baba](https://toonqueen.tumblr.com/) for betaing. The title of this fic comes from the [Panic! at the Disco song of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZK-zWTDzebE).

During the first year of Darkwing Duck's run, Jim Starling gave an interview for one of Duckburg's popular entertainment magazines. Most of the article was about Jim, his life, his rise to fame. With that came a number of personal questions by fans and critics alike.

The interviewer mentioned Jim saying he was "destined for this [Darkwing Duck] role" because he considered himself a bit of "a hero" in real life. She asked him to recall the first time he'd ever done something considered heroic in his life. Jim thought about the question for a moment, going through his past memories. The earliest he could think of was a day in fourth grade, when he was almost ten years old.

During recess, the school bully was picking on one of the kids, pushing him around and threatening to punch him after school if he tattled to the teachers. At the time, the two teachers on watch were talking with one another, distracted. The other kids were terrified of John, the name Jim gave to protect the boy's identity, and so they never stepped in or tried helping each other in fear they'd only evoke John's wrath.

Jim, although he'd never been the target of bullying personally, decided enough was enough. He walked up to John, and told him he was being too mean, and next time he tried to pick on anyone, he would go and tell the teachers. 

Of course John laughed at him, hardly afraid of the small duckling, but just by standing up to John, it inspired Jim's classmates to do the same, finding their inner strength. It wasn't much, Jim had told the interviewer, but after that, whenever John bullied someone, the other kids intervened, telling him to stop and going to fetch the teachers. John felt he was now the one being picked on, a cheap tactic to gain sympathy, but it never worked. Eventually John realized the error of his ways and stopped. Jim reassured the reporter that John even made friends with some of the kids he used to harass afterward, so it was a happy ending for everyone.

And while Jim's story had been true, he had omitted a number of very important details.

John was the school bully, yes, but his real name was Champ. That fateful day, Champ had been picking on one of the weaker kids, a piglet with a stammer named Wilburt. True, none of the other kids came to help Wilburt or tell Champ to back off because it wasn't their problem and they didn't want to risk getting bullied, too. Jim couldn't help but notice a few of his classmates were watching from a distance, however, upset; obviously they wanted to save poor Wilburt, but they were just too scared.

And yes, Jim decided to finally do something and confront Champ. He told the beagle to back off, that he was a "big jerk" and that no one liked him. Champ was both amused at this kid half his size, and offended on being called out. Champ laughed and shoved Jim back, told him to mind his own business if he knew what was good for him. No one cared about Wilburt anyway.

Jim didn't like being pushed and laughed it, especially in front of his peers. He couldn't let Champ get away with this--which included picking on Wilburt, of course. So while the teachers were still preoccupied gossiping, Jim pounced on the unsuspecting bully, knocking him to the ground. The crowd around Jim, Champ, and Wilburt grew, yet still no one tried to get the adults' attention.

Jim looked up, and saw his classmates smiling and whispering excitedly to one another. Finally, someone had put that mean old bully into place. Jim was brave and so cool. Jim felt a rush of power, all these eyes on him, supporting him, praising him, that he grabbed a handful of sand and forcibly shoved it in Champ's mouth. Champ struggled, not nearly as strong as he liked to believe, shaking his head and spitting. 

Jim, however, was determined to make the bully pay; he picked up more sand, practically slammed his hand against Champ's mouth until he was forced to swallow some. It felt like grating hot sandpaper, and so Jim made sure he rubbed and smeared his hand as hard as he could all over the beagle's face, leaving scratches and drawing drops of blood.

When Jim looked up for approval from the crowd, they were now terrified, eyes bugging from their heads. What? Was he being too rough? Had he gone too far? But Champ deserved it. Champ was a bad person. Champ always called people dirty names with his dirty mouth. It was only appropriate he should eat dirt and choke on it.

Mrs. Mewler suddenly picked Jim off Champ, scolding and yelling at him. Jim still didn't understand what the problem was. 

"Look what you did, Jim!" Mrs. Mewler snapped, pointing at Champ. 

Jim did look--another teacher was helping Champ to the nurse's office, the beagle sobbing and cradling his bruised and scratched up face.

Jim smiled. Champ was actually crying. What a big baby. Mrs. Mewler was not pleased, however, and later Jim found himself in the principal's office with his father as well as Champ and his parents. Honestly, Jim wished his mother had come instead; although both his parents were always busy with work, one of them managed to make time for this stupid nonsense.

The principal explained the situation and how the school would be handling it. Jim would be suspended for the next three days. Although Champ's parents wanted the suspension extended, the principal reminded them of Champ's own record, and so they dropped it. The principal did mention speaking to Wilburt, asking him what had happened, but Wilburt denied everything, saying Champ had just accidentally knocked him down, that he didn't tell Jim to attack Champ, and he also thought Jim was being too aggressive.

Jim was furious. You stand up for someone, and this is how they repay you? Not even a thank you? Not even a word of sympathy for Jim's case? That damn piglet was a spineless knob.

Jim was grounded when he got home, but his dad was too tired to lecture him any further. He knew what he'd done wrong, now dad needed to get back to work, so go to your room and don't come out until dinner. It really wasn't that bad in the end, but Jim still didn't like being punished, especially when he had done nothing wrong--and now he was grounded, too? While his father was more annoyed at being interrupted from work than his kid's behavior, his mom would have taken the more apathetic approach. Well, what's done is done, you're suspended for three days, that's that, don't do it again, now I've got to make a few phone calls so run along.

Jim eventually got over his anger. About Champ, that was. Champ ended up just being some crybaby loser who couldn't handle what he dished out. Jim had popped him like a balloon full of hot air. No, rather, he was mad at Wilburt for not sticking up for him, for not standing beside him, for being an even bigger weakling than Champ.

When Jim returned to school three days later, the kids were slightly wary but Jim acted like everything was fine. He was back to being his usual self--a bit blunt and a little rough around the edges, but overall a pretty chill guy. Wilburt had approached him during lunch to apologize for what happened and that he would have told the principal Jim was only helping, but he was afraid he'd upset his parents or Champ would come after him.

Jim smiled and said it was fine, just forget it.

Although it was in the opposite direction of his house, Jim followed Wilburt home. He kept his distance, and the piglet didn't seem to notice him. As soon as they were away from the crowds, however, Jim ran up behind Wilburt, grabbed him by one of his pink ears, and dragged him into the bushes. Wilburt wailed as Jim repeatedly slapped and punched him, chewing him out for being an ungrateful turd. When he finished, he told Wilburt to blame Champ for his injuries or himself for being clumsy and falling off the jungle gym at school. 

Jim made it very clear that Champ would be the least of Wilburt's problems if he told anyone the truth. He convinced the piglet the beating was necessary for his cowardice, and Jim would only forgive him if he gave him something in return. Wilburt had leftover lunch money, and a neat pen that lit up when you wrote with it; Jim took his bounty. As Wilburt deserved being punished, Jim deserved being rewarded.

As promised, Wilburt lied to his parents about what happened to him. The truth would stay between him and Jim alone.

On his second day back from suspension, two siblings who'd been mocked by Champ for their hair color and freckles came to Jim during recess. They told him they thought Champ deserved the butt-kicking and Jim shouldn't have been punished for what he did. They said Jim was super cool, and if they could ever come to him if Champ or someone else was picking on them. Jim was ecstatic and said he'd be happy to help and protect his fellow classmates. He also remembered seeing Wilburt across the yard, watching him with those big, fearful eyes.

Jim flashed him a cool smile, then went back to recounting his brave battle against the bully with his new friends.

\----

## PROLOGUE

##  \----

Jim Starling's head was killing him.

And, maybe, quite literally. 

He'd been down in the sewers for almost a week now. While he had managed to avoid most of the falling, heavy props before slipping underground, his melon still took a beating. Jim chalked it up to his surroundings--the noxious fumes, the filth and germs, the fact he hadn't really eaten properly in the last seven days. These were simply contributing factors, however; these chronic headaches weren't going to leave with Jim when he finally did return to the surface.

It got so bad sometimes, Jim would wake up screaming in pain, unable to go back to sleep. He would pace the sewer, cradling his head, massaging all the sensitive, throbbing points. Then he'd get mad and stomp and shriek some more, not caring if this only made his migraines worse. He'd eventually pass out again; sometimes for more than ten hours, sometimes only one hour every other day.

Everything tasted funny, too. There was a weird burn on his top bill that wasn't looking too good, either. Perhaps now would be an ideal time to leave this cesspool. If he wanted to take Drake Mallard and all those who had wronged him down, he'd need to survive and, just maybe, not be sick.

It wasn't safe to go back to his apartment or store, however. He'd be arrested on sight, to spend his golden years in prison for a number of crimes that included those pretty serious "attempted murder" and "assault and battery" charges. Maybe in some loony bin for having his mental breakdown. No doubt news of what Jim had done had spread, and no doubt his already dwindling fanbase was practically hemorrhaging.

There wasn't really anyone Jim could turn to. At least, people he didn't want to kill on sight.

Still, Jim needed a few things from his place. By now, things had been winding down; he'd been watching his apartment from a gutter in the parking lot for two days now, nearing the end of his week long sojourn in sunny underground wastelands. No police, no Darkwing Duck. After stealing clothes from a clothes lines, he managed to sneak through the complex unnoticed. No keys, no problem; he wasn't intending on staying. Breaking through the window with a little improvised ingenuity he'd learned on the show, Jim stuck his head inside, oily leer on his beak. 

"What's cooookin', good loooookin'," he sang. 

No response, just the ever present low ringing in Jim's ears.

"Oh, yeah," Jim huffed, stepping inside. "I ain't married. One of the few things I did right."

Jim went to packing up all the essentials. First things first: medicine. He'd been prone to stress headaches in the past, so there was a half-full bottle of painkillers in the cabinet.

Jim swaggered casually over to his fridge, and the inside was just as pathetic as he remembered: some old take-out, spoiled milk, rotten fruit, and a six pack of long neck beers. He took out one of the bottles, searched for his cap opener--Jim was too impatient. He broke the neck on the counter, popped five pills, and dumped the booze in his mouth. It splashed down his face, wet his clothes; with a burp, Jim dropped the bottle carelessly on the floor. It shattered, spitting up foam and alcohol.

Right, Jim came here to pack. First aid kit, clothing, cash (credit cards were most likely being monitored by police, but at least he had kept a hefty sum of one grand in a sugar bowl in his closet), food (canned items), maybe too many kitchen knives-- That was enough. He'd stuffed his only suitcase to the brim, until not a single inch of space was left to fill. But before he turned to leave (through the front door this time), Jim stopped, spotting the collection of awards he'd won during his run on TV--Best Actor In A Television Show, Best Breakout Star, trophies congratulating Jim for this and that and so on and so forth.

Jim never really kept his place cleaned up. No doubt the police thought he might have been there a lot earlier, given the condition of the messy apartment. But the trophies--Jim made sure they were all pristine, dusted frequently, occasionally switching them around. There was a large autographed poster of himself framed above the collection, standing on the red carpet with award in hand.

Jim picked up the nearest trophy. It was from his fanclub, when the show was fresh and at the top of its game. It was given to him when he came to a signing at a local convention. They explained how every member of the club chipped in money so they could afford this pure silver, custom, one of a kind piece just for Jim Starling. He remembered briefly thinking, just a quick thought and then it was gone: _what, they couldn't afford gold?_ The club wasn't exactly tiny, even though half of it consisted of younger fans who still lived at home or those who made a slightly below average income.

The trophy felt heavy in Jim's hands now. It didn't back then. In those early years, Jim believed what drove him to play the heroic Darkwing Duck was all the love and inspiration from the show's many fans. In repeated interviews, Jim would make a point that he wouldn't be doing this job if not for his fanbase, that their support kept both himself and the series going for as long as it did.

But over time, as the spotlight waned and less people started coming to his signings, as the show was cancelled and the fan letters stopped flooding his P.O. box, there'd be moments of darkness where Jim wondered if it was never love that fueled him, but rather his own ego. 

Being adored, admired, practically worshiped... Who wouldn't get high off of that? Seeing himself on everything everywhere, from toys to lunchboxes to gummy vitamins, felt almost like religious iconography. He was on a pedestal and below him were millions bowing in his great light.

It was then that Jim realized: he never truly liked his fans. He liked the attention they lavished upon him. There might have been a time where he was truly touched by all the stories of triumph and hope his show gave to the bullied, the picked on, the weak. That, like so many other things, was long gone. Jim never remembered any of their names, never bothered to smile or engage with his remaining fans. He knew they didn't care; he knew they saw him as some nostalgic relic. Maybe they could sell his autographs online for a few extra bucks.

Jim had met two dedicated and genuine fans recently, however. The last of a dying generation. Both had turned on him, and taken away his glory, his second coming.

Nevermind that. 

Jim was feeling pretty good right now: pitching all his trophies at the walls, the ceiling, watching them shatter or break or bend. It was hilarious. Glass sprinkled down on him like confetti.

Jim should leave now. 

But why kill the buzz?

Next to go was the framed autograph; he smashed it over a chair, took out the poster and crumpled it up into a ball. There was another photo sitting on top of his fridge of Darkwing Duck, this time shaking hands with one of their many popular guest stars. He threw it on the floor, picked the picture out of the shards of glass, and crushed it into a little lump, too.

Jim went around his apartment, high on his destructive mood. There were quite a lot of posters and pictures of Darkwing Duck everywhere. Half of them he tore apart, gleefully laughing; shredded them to pieces, bit by bit, strip by strip. The rest he threw his remaining fruit and spoiled milk at. Tiny, collectible, and probably valuable figurines he snatched up in both hands, dumped them in the toilet, and flushed. They immediately clogged it, water flowing out on the bathroom floor, but hey, Jim didn't have to clean up that mess now. 

Whatever didn't fit in the toilet was smashed with a hammer. Jim found one of his old Darkwing Duck costumes in the back of his closet--he would wear it to signings or meet and greets. It didn't fit him anymore, and the colors had faded over time. He yanked it off the hanger, ripped off the protective plastic casing, dropped it on the floor, and emptied an entire bottle of bleach on it. 

Jim inhaled, the strong scent of the cleaner dizzying him, stinging his nostrils and burning his eyes. Nonetheless, he smiled as if it were a fine, elegant cologne.

Jim unspooled all his VHS copies of the show, tossing the ribbons of film around like a hyperactive child with streamers. Snapped and crushed the DVDs. Jim took a few classes on Quack Fu to better demonstrate Darkwing Duck's mastery of the art. He threw the bigger shards of the DVDs much like he'd thrown those shuriken into the walls, one cleanly severing off the top of his Darkwing Duck bobble-head.

Why hadn't he thought to sell all this garbage? Especially when he was having a hard time just keeping his store afloat. Not like he hadn't milked his Darkwing Duck fame for any sort of financial aid or support before, but that teat was bone dry now. 

"What'd this go for anyway? Forty bucks?" Jim mused to himself, tossing the first edition Darkwing Duck action figure between his hands. He stopped, clenched the toy in his fist, breaking the aged plastic.

Once every piece of Darkwing Duck memorabilia was destroyed, Jim collected the posters he'd rolled up and shoved them in the garbage disposal. He switched it on, laughed wildly as it snarled and belched out pieces of paper. But, like the toilet, the garbage disposal choked, stalled, and died before finishing the job. Jim didn't mind; he expected this would happen. He used his Darkwing Duck lighter to set the paper on fire, then tossed the lighter in as well, and soon flames burst from the sink and Jim just couldn't stop cackling.

There was a knock on the door, someone asking if he was okay. A voice he recognized as his neighbor's. All the noise must have woken her from slumber. Jim opened the door and peered out; the duck recoiled at his manic eyes, his face splitting grin. She could see the fire burning in the sink, smoke pouring along the ceiling.

"I'm throwing myself a bit of a going away party, Mrs. Hennox," Jim snickered, "you're welcome to join us, if you want." He stepped aside, opening the door wide. Once she saw all the destruction, water running out of the bathroom and flooding the carpet-- Mrs. Hennox shook her head, smiled forcibly, and ran back to her apartment.

But Mrs. Hennox did remind Jim that he really ought to leave now. He picked up the only trophy he hadn't broken--the one from his fanclub, designed to look like Darkwing Duck's tower with all its pointy edges. Jim stuffed it in his jacket, left whistling just as his fire alarm went off.

\----

Duckburg was a massive city with its own share of abandoned residences. What better use for an empty strip mall than to just sit and rot, vacant forever.

Jim broke into the store nestled toward the back of the shopping area. It must have been the last place to close, and not that long ago either, as its sweet smell lingered. According to a sign above the entrance, this was once a bakery. Judging by all the paintings on the walls, they must have specialized in cakes.

There was even a large cardboard cut out cake left abandoned at the back of the store. Three tiers, purple base frosting with blue frosting trim and pretty yellow ribbons with darker purple bows, a matching blue rose at the top for the finishing touch.

Jim eyed the cake cut out before throwing it aside. There was a door behind it, most likely leading to some sort of office or break room. He went inside; a desk, chair, and empty shelves had been left behind.

This could work. For now.

Jim fished a rolled up piece of paper from his pocket, unfurled it. An advertisement for the upcoming Darkwing Duck film. The titular character posing atop a tower, silhouetted by the light of the moon, looking ever so... dangerous.

Wrong. It was all wrong. How could they get Darkwing Duck so wrong?

Jim stabbed the picture into the wall with a kitchen knife, right through "Darkwing's" smug head.

\----

What did they name that doppelganger in the show? Darkwing's evil half that ended up in the very last episode of the series run.

"Darkerwing Duck?" Jim mumbled, looking over his intricate master plan consisting of photos, notes, and connecting red lines on the wall. "I told them I hated it. I told them it was stupid. Not like they were gonna listen anyway." Had they listened, maybe the show wouldn't have been canceled.

Jim had given them alternate names, nonetheless, even if they fell on deaf ears. He tapped his sharpened pencil on his beak, thinking, thinking...

Oh.

Jim guffawed. How could he forget? It was his first, and favorite, suggestion. "Negaduck. Negaduck, Negaduck, Negaduck," he hummed to himself. He grinned, popped a handful of pills, chewed them up. "It's perfect. You're such a genius, Jim--oh, pardon me. _Negaduck_."

Negaduck threw his pencil to join the ten others in Drake Mallard's headshot photo.

\----

## PART 1

##  \----

So far, everything was falling into place. 

Negaduck had taken to observing Darkwing Duck through the past month, moving unseen using the sewer system. He practically had the entire place memorized. It was often hard for Negaduck to stomach, watching this knock-off try and play Darkwing Duck. He was little more than some boy scout trying to earn badges for his sash. Rescuing cats from trees, walking old ladies across busy streets, chasing down teen pranksters. And the bike--the Goddamn _bike_ \--such a pale, cheap imitation of the Ratcatcher, thrown together with whatever the idiot could find.

God, wouldn't it feel so relaxing to use that very same crappy motorcycle to run over this knob's stupid head? Negaduck could at least take comfort in his fantasies.

Negaduck had followed Drake home on numerous occasions. He wasn't sure if he was disgusted or furious that Drake always left some electronic candles lit at his store. Probably left one at his apartment, too (he hadn't noticed when he visited, given how Negaduck had mentally checked out hours before.) Mourning poor Jim Starling with tearful speeches and apologies. 

It made Negaduck sick.

On the other hand, people did leave some nice things he could pawn off for quick cash. They left him flowers, too; if these "fans" knew anything about him, they'd know he hated flowers. If Negaduck wasn't allergic to them, they smelled too sweet and died too quickly. Cheap gifts never meant to last--funny, that, in an ironic way that Negaduck didn't find very funny at all, actually.

Negaduck did call the number Drake left behind with his candle. When Drake answered, and he heard that annoying voice, all the terrible things he wanted to say to him caught in Negaduck's throat. No, he couldn't give himself away; just a little more time, be a little more patient. He hung up on Drake after the third and somewhat pensive "hello", but made sure to give the phone in the booth a good thrashing and leave it hanging off the hook.

Admittedly, the kid had some chops when it came to fighting, hand to hand combat, acrobatics. He did imitate--learn from--the best. But a detective he was not; that he'd still need working on. Because as of yet, Drake hadn't realized someone had snuck into his apartment not once, but twice.

And while this fake did admit to being one of his biggest fans, even Negaduck was taken aback and shocked by the extent of this loser's Darkwing Duck collection. While there were a few collectibles and items throughout the apartment, Drake's bedroom was practically a shrine. The walls were plastered in posters, photographs, article clippings from newspapers and online pieces he printed out. The top of his dresser covered in neatly arranged toys, figurines, statutes, and miscellaneous Darkwing products. He even had two of the limited edition Darkwing Duck Christmas bulbs that were only released in five stores in Duckburg for one day; back then, they still cost a fortune. This yuppie probably had rich parents, lived off their money until he decided to leave the nest.

Negaduck had no intention of taking anything. Whatever he picked up, he put perfectly back into place. This was a simple recon mission. He wanted to get to know his enemy, get inside his head. And it was... pretty empty. Drake Mallard was simple; aside from his semi-unsettling obsession with Darkwing Duck, he was fairly and prosaically boring. Negaduck supposed now more than ever he couldn't spend his money so frivolously either.

Well, no, in the end Negaduck did take a souvenir: a Paracetamol bottle he found in the bathroom cabinet, stashing all the pills in a pocket. Kid would just assume he used them all, given his hazardous new job.

Not many personal items to glean any information from. Negaduck found a couple photo albums, one of which was, unsurprisingly, full of his fanaticism over the years. From his first makeshift Darkwing Duck costume as a duckling to an eye roll-worthy selfie of him posing in front of the canned movie poster, grinning and giving a peace sign.

Then there were the journals. Oh, the journals. Even sadder than the photo album and the thousands of dollars worth of Darkwing Duck products. Sure, there were entries about Drake's life outside of his unrequited love for the fictional superhero and his work, but they were predictably mundane as well. While flipping through the pages, two purple ribbons fell out. One for first place in a costume contest at a convention, another congratulating him for his hard work volunteering at a health clinic. His dedication to Darkwing Duck went beyond just being a hardcore fan, it seemed, but also living up to his hero's ideals and desire to help people.

Negaduck glanced around the room. This was really just so... pitiful. Kid couldn't get out of the past. He'd never go anywhere living in someone else's shadow all his life.

The second time Negaduck visited Drake's place was shortly after the mallard went on patrol. He hadn't really considered just how nice this apartment was before, given its less than stellar location. The rent was reasonable, too, and very roomy. He'd seen Drake interact with his neighbors, and they all seemed to love the goody-two-shoes--oh, that Drake Mallard, he's so kind and thoughtful, he helped me carry up my groceries and tended to my garden while I was sick and licked my boots when I asked him pretty pretty please.

"You want to be Darkwing Duck so badly?" Negaduck chuckled. "Don't worry. You've won the audition, kid."

Negaduck set the timer on the comically large bomb, placed it under Drake's bed, and left.

\----

It was kind of funny, actually, just how much Negaduck was shaking, really channeling legitimate nervousness into frustration when he confronted Darkwing Duck for the second time. Much like his first audition for a middle school play; when Jim finally stepped out on the stage, he was practically drenched in sweat, his first few lines strained because of his cotton dry mouth.

Of course it would be exciting, even a little scary. Negaduck was playing a new role in a big new show he wrote himself.

And Negaduck hadn't fumbled on any of his lines! Granted, some of the execution was a little clumsy and he had rearranged certain segments, but surely Darkwing Duck would give him a stunning and glowing review as the insane, bloodthirsty madman. It was guaranteed, considering he believed everything Negaduck fed his pea-sized brain.

The original idea of taking out those who wronged him under the guise of Drake Mallard had been tantalizing while Negaduck banged out the first draft. But new concepts took hold, bigger and better. Alistair Boorswan and Scrooge McDuck were small fish; he'd cook them in the future, hopefully in a two for one murder spree. 

Launchpad, however, was high on his hit list.

Drake Mallard would be destroyed, yes. But not in the way he'd told Darkwing Duck. It wouldn't be tonight, however; Negaduck stuck close by, just in case Darkwing's sidekick didn't find him in time. That moron did, however, probably using a tracker on Darkwing's person--maybe his suit, maybe an implanted chip. Technology was pretty crazy these days. If Darkwing had been in any serious threat of dying, Negaduck had planned a route to a hospital. ETA five minutes.

It had to look real, however. Negaduck had to bring Darkwing to the edge. Negaduck needed to come off as chaotic and uncaring; live or die, it didn't matter to him. He was unpredictable.

Really easy playing all that, too.

The kid did surprise him a couple of times. He'd managed to strike a nerve, calling him Jim, Jim, Jim, over and over again. He didn't cry or break apart; he remained fairly levelheaded and calm. It wasn't nearly as admirable because there was a hint of distress in his voice as if he were talking down a suicidal person. It was... concern, pity, treating him like he was a fragile lost lamb? It was fucking grotesque, that's what it was. His correct answers to all of Negaduck's trivia questions was impressive, in that really sad way.

Oh, and Darkwing used a replica of one of the show's gadgets Negaduck had completely forgotten about to cut himself loose and land a few blows. That was a close one. Kudos to the kid.

Revenge was a dish best served cold. Negaduck disagreed.

Unless it was frozen, below zero, it couldn't burn as if it were hot. Had to be hot, had to burn, and above all else, it had to be searingly painful, leaving its mark much like the scar on Negaduck's bill. Sure, sure, he'd been quite cold-hearted when he tore into Darkwing Duck, but at least he had spirit and enthusiasm.

Besides, Negaduck had done enough burning for one night. Drake wouldn't be coming home to nothing, after all, since Negaduck triggered the bomb to go off right before he confronted his captive. There'd be rubble and ash and debris from the explosion that, according to Negaduck's calculations, took out at least half the building. There'd be bodies, too, so he certainly didn't leave Drakey with _nothing_ to expect when he returned.

Negaduck shoveled down his lo mein, watching a reporter explain the explosion on TV, currently standing in front of the smoldering building, away from the crowds of firefighters, police officers, and evacuated residents. He couldn't see Drake; probably tucked away in the back, hidden among the crowds. "Aww," Negaduck cooed when the camera panned on a couple weeping in the back of an EMT van, covered in soot and bandaged up. "That really tugs at the ol' heart strings." Negaduck threw the take-out box behind him, noodles sticking to the wall. "Tugged 'em right the fuck off, in fact."

"It's a safe neighborhood. We haven't had any trouble with gangs or break-ins or anything," one resident explained, a fussing baby on her hip. "I want to say it was an accident, but some of the others are saying it was a bomb. I mean... who would do such a thing? We're good people who look out for one another!"

"That's too bad, Monica," Negaduck sighed, grinning and idly shaking his bottle of pills, "but you were right, it really was such a nice pl--" Fuck it. He doubled over in his chair, bursting into laughter.

\----

Negaduck, however, had yet to uncover Drake's actual hideout. Probably should have asked the guy when he was interrogating him at knife point, but... Live and learn.

He tried following Darkwing on a couple occasions with a stolen car, but the motorcycle was much faster, and Drake had already covered all those bases. Constantly taking different routes, zigzagging about the city to throw anyone who may be following off his tail feathers. It was easy to tell if he was being pursued, given one had to drive fast to keep up and close with him. And despite such a vast sewer system, there were sections blocked or cut off, with most only accessible through pipes.

No. Darkwing Duck kept his base of operations elsewhere. Whenever he returned home, it was by car or bus or taxi. Negaduck had gone through that apartment thoroughly before it went extra crispy, and never found a single bit of evidence suggesting he was more than just a huge, huge, huge, _huge_ Darkwing Duck fan.

Wait.

That shit-for-brains doormat of his must've been helping. Might have even found a place for Darkwing to hide his things. Launchpad was still destined to die, too, so finding both Darkwing's base and offing Launchpad was hitting two birds with one bomb.

However, unlike Drake Mallard, Launchpad was not as easy to get to. He worked for a very powerful duck, and was more often than not out of the city on missions with his employer. Launchpad wasn't always available to help his friend either, which made the novice hero much more vulnerable. That was a grievous error on the kid's part--never rely on anyone, ever, to have your back. 

Involving others got too messy, too strenuous, too _unnecessarily_ dangerous.

But Negaduck was getting closer. Closer to the bigger picture. One that would change both his and Darkwing Duck's lives forever.

\----

It was by chance and luck that such a wonderful gift had fallen into Negaduck's lap. He just so happened to be in the area when he spotted Launchpad chauffeuring Scrooge McDuck back to his mansion. Although Negaduck had intended to abandon the vehicle he'd stolen, as surely it'd been reported and police would be on the prowl, he couldn't pass up this once in a blue moon opportunity. Especially not when Drake Mallard was currently in the hospital recuperating from his... "accident."

Launchpad spent some time at the McDuck Manor. Negaduck was starting to lose his limited patience, watching and waiting in his car across the street. He was getting angry, and getting angry made his head hurt, and when his head hurt, he got even angrier, and Negaduck crushed the pill bottle in his hand, spraying white tablets on the seats.

Finally, Launchpad left the house in the car he came in. Negaduck cursed and grumbled under his breath, fixed his orange tinted sunglasses, and tagged behind from a safe distance.

The plan was simple. Follow Launchpad to his place, change into his outfit, film himself torturing and eventually killing the idiot, then leaving both film and the body for Darkwing to find later. Once he'd taken care of the trash, Negaduck would go through Darkwing's hideout and ride out of the place on that ugly motorbike with a big sack of goodies.

Launchpad disappeared inside a plane hangar near a private air strip. While there were other hangars, a jet and helicopter, it was nicely secluded. Absolutely perfect for both parties.

Negaduck hopped into the back seat, wriggled and rocked the car about as he changed as fast as he could. He looked himself over in the rear view mirror once he put the red hat on his head. "Showtime," Negaduck smirked, sliding his sunglasses back on for the Hell of it.

\----

Negaduck had underestimated Drake Mallard. He'd fallen for the trap. 

Of course Darkwing would be more cautious and vigilant after everything that had happened, but Negaduck was so sure the mallard would be bed-ridden in the hospital a while longer. The injuries hadn't been fatal, but they'd have to hurt--Darkwing's beak and mouth were bandaged and there was a visible lag in the way he moved and rarely used his wounded shoulder.

But he just... got back up. And was rearing to fight. Although outnumbered by two, Darkwing Duck was still recovering, and Launchpad was outlandishly clumsy. Negaduck would have won, he knew, if that meddling Gizmoduck hadn't shown up out of the blue.

"Gizmoduck?" both Negaduck and Darkwing squawked in shocked unison. Apparently Darkwing hadn't called his fellow superhero in for back-up. Launchpad didn't seem as surprised, nor was his gasp very convincing. If you could call shouting the word "Gasp!" as a gasp.

Fine. Three on one. Negaduck could take 'em.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Negaduck was scrambling up onto the hangar's roof. He'd managed to distract Gizmoduck, allowing him to escape. It was the only way out. He was limping, head pounding, one eye bruised. Negaduck dragged himself over to the side of the rooftop, looking for anything he could jump on to cushion his fall.

"In the end, your hubris will always be your undoing, Jim."

Negaduck's entire body trembled. The pain suddenly disappeared, and he was nothing but rage and hatred. "It's _Negaduck_!" he screamed, whipping around to face Darkwing Duck. He shook his fists, crying out bitterly. " _Negaduck, Negaduck, Negaduck_!"

"You can tell the police to use your new name for your mugshot!" Darkwing snapped. "Face it. You're outnumbered. I--we--have you cornered. There's nowhere you can go." He shook his head. "You messed up. You got too proud."

"Shut up, you ungrateful dolt!" Negaduck shouted. "Everything I've done, I did to help you live your dreams! _Our_ dreams!"

Darkwing's eyes widened. "What?"

"By systematically destroying your monotonous life, by breaking Drake Mallard down, by taking away what Darkwing Duck never needed," Negaduck growled. "You want to be Darkwing Duck? Darkwing Duck never had some crappy day job! Darkwing Duck didn't live in some stuffy apartment! Darkwing Duck didn't have partners!" He grinned crookedly. "You're no longer playing a character. You've _become_ Darkwing Duck. And all good heroes need an arch-nemesis, after all."

"You..." Darkwing was speechless. "You really are insane."

"The whole world's a stage, Darkwimp! Now we'll be back in the spotlight! The entire planet will be watching us!" Negaduck laughed, spinning once. "We'll put on a show they'll never forget!"

"You tried to _kill_ me!"

"I had to test your limitations. How far you'd be willing to go for the role," Negaduck explained, giggling. "And I don't want to kill you. Not right now. The show's only just begun! I'll decide the finale; I'll decide which of us takes the first bow!"

"This isn't some movie, Negaduck!" Darkwing snarled. "You're putting real lives in danger! You've already killed people in that apartment explosion! How many more must pay the price for your megalomania? Your warped power trip?"

Negaduck howled with laughter. "What's a few empty seats when we have such an enormous audience already? Besides." He held out his hands, sneering. "Did you not want grim and gritty?"

Darkwing clenched his teeth, sending a jolt of pain through his injured bill. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed. "What could have driven you... so..."

"There's nowhere to run, Starling!" A robotic limb extended over the roof, reaching for Negaduck. Negaduck admittedly jumped, squeaking; he recoiled, but Gizmoduck caught a fistful of his cape. The villainous mallard was dragged back, Darkwing moving in. 

"Stupid bucket of bolts!" Negaduck growled, taking out his last knife and impaling it on one of Gizmoduck's fingers. Electricity sparked from the wound, loosening the grip just enough for Negaduck to pull free.

Negaduck ran at Darkwing, the two crashing and tumbling along the roof. Negaduck flipped off his counterpart, landing a few feet away. Before Darkwing could get back up, Negaduck tugged his cape in front of him and laughed, "'Til next time, Dorkwing Dork!" There was a _boom_ and an explosion of red gas engulfed Negaduck.

Darkwing held his breath, just in case the gas was toxic. He used his hat to fan the clouds away, stopping just before he could walk into the hole in the ceiling. He glanced down, spotting Launchpad on the ground--alive and muttering about little birds tweeting around his head. Then there was the roar of an engine.

The motorcycle.

"He's got the bike!" Darkwing yelled down at Gizmoduck.

"I'm on it!" Gizmoduck replied.

Negaduck cackled as he crashed through the hangar door, whipping the motorcycle around the corner.

Gizmoduck pursued closely. "Pull over, Starling!" he ordered, extending an arm to pluck Negaduck off the bike. "You can't escape--"

Negaduck took another sharp turn, nearly avoiding crashing into a steel fence. Gizmoduck gasped, hitting the brakes; his tire spun out smoke, but he managed to stop with just an inch of the fence from his face.

Negaduck glanced over his shoulder. There was space between the two now, but Gizmoduck was still following. "Damn," Negaduck cursed, revving up to full speed, "what an asshole."

\----

Fortunately for Negaduck, there was an accident on the nearby freeway, clogging the road in traffic. While Negaduck had no problem endangering lives, Gizmoduck did, and had to focus, careful not to do more than bump or nick one of the cars. Sometimes he simply jumped over them, using all his various suit tech to safely maneuver around the vehicles and get closer to Negaduck.

Negaduck sighed. This ugly bike had grown on him over time, but he had no choice. He leaped off the motorcycle, onto the top of a green van. Gizmoduck gasped as the motorbike sped toward a car with a family of four inside. He was forced to change route, stopping the bike before it could nail the car's side.

Once Gizmoduck took care of the motorcycle, he scanned the area for Negaduck. All the passengers blew up his infra-red scanner; he couldn't detect Negaduck's signature among the massive field of warm bodies and hot engines.

Negaduck had hopped from one car to another until leaping over the freeway railing and onto the street below. A car swerved to avoid hitting him, crashing into a fire hydrant instead. Negaduck laughed and pointed at the poor sucker, water shooting out from the busted hydrant. 

Negaduck climbed into the nearby manhole, lid banging shut.

\----

Using the gas bomb to escape may have saved him, but it also cost Negaduck. He sat in his office, bitterly bandaging burns on his webbed feet and right ankle. Some shrapnel had embedded itself in his coat, but luckily did not pierce through. Negaduck's bottom half was missing chunks of feathers, his tail just short of being completely naked. 

At least Launchpad broke his fall--Negaduck even knocked the big lug out as a bonus for practically throwing his entire body right on top of his head.

However, Negaduck's entire plan failed in the end. Launchpad was alive, and he hadn't escaped with any weapons or tools. He'd been forced to sacrifice the bike as well. But he wasn't too angry, despite his furious migraine.

Darkwing could have his sidekick. It wouldn't change much. As for weapons--he knew just the place he could load up.

\----

## PART 2

##  \----

Although Negaduck hadn't been very active in the last few weeks, it didn't mean he wasn't plotting something.

Negaduck had taken what little of his belongings he still had to St. Canard. It was comical just how awful this place was with its high crime rate; they played it up in the show, but they weren't far off at all. 

St. Canard also had roomy ghettos and more options to choose from--should his new hideout be the rotting, abandoned three story office building, or a nice and cozy empty house that looked like it was haunted? Tough choice.

The house would do for now. Although it was old and damaged, worn down by time and consumed by weeds, Negaduck still kicked over the FOR SALE sign before going inside. And lo! It even came fully furnished! An antique couch probably full of bugs, a mattress begging to be put out of its misery, a table with three legs, and a dirty lawn chair in the sink. The boarded up windows and all the colorful, profane graffiti on the walls and ceiling just added to its charm.

"I feel like Goldilocks!" Negaduck laughed, throwing his suitcase on the couch. A handful of roaches fled, coughing up a giant dust cloud. "And if those three bears do come back, I could use a few new rugs to brighten the place up."

Negaduck found the bathroom. It was just like a scene out of a horror movie, the kind a bunch of pesky kids and their dog would find while investigating an abandoned asylum. It could use some work, Negaduck thought, using his cape to wipe away months of grime from the cracked mirror. He looked at his distorted reflection, brushing off his coat.

"Soon, Negs, baby," Negaduck mused, dumping pills in his hand, "rehearsal's almost over." He swallowed the tablets dry then struck a pose, pointing and grinning deviously into the mirror. "Then the _real_ show begins."

\----

It wasn't hard finding someone who could direct Negaduck to the black market--or the local arms dealer. There was practically a shady figure lurking under every dim alley streetlight. Negaduck approached the least threatening of the lot: an ugly goat missing half of his right horn.

"Hello there, stranger! I just moved in down the street. I'm your new neighbor; call me Negaduck," Negaduck chuckled, giving a polite half-bow.

The goat growled. "Piss off, ducky."

Negaduck looked offended. "But I have a welcome gift for you!" He took out his revving chainsaw, holding it up to the goat's face. The goat squealed and fell back into a puddle. Negaduck kept the chainsaw close to his throat, twisting a fist in the goat's jacket and holding him in place. "Now! How about you do me a favor and introduce me to the other neighbors. I'm especially excited to meet the guy with the biggest tool shed."

\----

It took a little more coaxing to get the goat to talk--St. Canard's criminals weren't exactly fragile, after all--but eventually he squealed. The goat admitted to knowing a guy who knew a guy who could possibly help him out. He'd speak to his friend, who'd speak to his friend, and see if they could arrange a meet-up.

Negaduck was naturally skeptical. He let the moron off with a warning. "I may be new in town, but I know this city like the back of my hand," he said. "I know how to sniff out the rat nests and roach motels. Try and hide behind your friends, I'll axe 'em too." He moved the chainsaw toward the base of the goat's intact horn. "I'm the type of guy to bring a chainsaw to a bazooka fight just for the fun of it, know what I mean?"

The goat gulped, nodding carefully.

Negaduck dropped him in an empty trash can. He clutched the edges, leaning over and getting face to face with the goat. "Get your guy. Tell 'im we'll meet up on the corner of Swallowpit Street and Doomish Avenue. Nine o' clock PM, sharp. In the sewer; I'll keep the manhole cracked for 'im," he sniped. "If he doesn't show up, I'm gonna saw off more than your horn, got it?"

"G-Got it."

Negaduck stood upright. "Now piss off, lambkins." He slapped the lid back on the can then kicked it over, sending both it and the bleating goat rolling down the alley.

\----

Negaduck didn't sleep the first two nights, just in case the goat decided to grow back his horn and bring a couple of his friends over for a good old fashioned hazing of the fresh meat. Negaduck made sure he wasn't followed, but this place was infested with criminals--he could easily miss a few pairs of prying eyes.

Negaduck sat where he could see the door and the two boarded up windows, snacking on chips, sandwiches, a whole carrot, and too many pills to count. He made sure to keep a large pack of bottled water nearby, as well as the empty bottles, too. Negaduck laid his chainsaw across his lap, knives in his belt and at the ready.

What was Darkwing Duck up to? Was he still fighting those dangerous jaywalkers? Maybe working side by side with Gizmoduck? He must be worried; Negaduck had gone missing. That madman was surely up to something. 

_And I am_ , Negaduck thought to himself, _but keep on chasing your tail. I need all the props before we can begin._

No one came. Not even the milkman. Soon enough, day three rolled around. 8:30 PM. Now or never. Negaduck packed his weapons, tucked a wad of money in his suit, and left the house. Hopefully to make a nice, new friend.

\----

8:45. Negaduck tick-tick-ticked his finger on his crossed arms, leaning against the slimy sewer wall. He was grouchy, tired, anxious. He could feel another headache forming at the back of his skull. Negaduck growled, chewing two tablets, the loud crunches echoing down the tunnels.

8:55. Negaduck walked over to the canal of sewage water. He leaned over, arms behind his back. He could barely see his reflection in the dark, bubbling surface. A can, a dead fish, and a grocery bag floated by.

9:00. Negaduck abruptly looked up from the water, swiveling around and deflecting the piercing object with his chainsaw. He glanced down, blinking. "An arrow?" he barked into the shadows. "Well, points for creativity."

Four arrows shot out from the darkness. Negaduck blocked three, but the fourth pinned his cape into the wall. He lowered his chainsaw, grunting as he tried yanking the arrow out. Three, two, one--Negaduck grinned, easily twisted out the arrow, and whipped around; he thrust the arrow into the hand reaching for his throat. The attacker yelped and scrambled back.

Two shadowy figures leaped out, running at him. A tall lanky jaguar, the other a thick and short boar. He dodged their blows, or met them with his own fists. He slid between Kitty's legs, stood up, grabbed his chainsaw, and slashed the roaring weapon down, cutting through Piggy's shirt, across his naked chest.

Negaduck snickered as blood splattered on his face, Piggy falling into the water. Despite Kitty being unarmed, Negaduck dropped his major advantage and raised his fists. The guy wasn't too bad at hand to hand combat, but Negaduck had seniority on his side. He jump-spun into the air, thrusting his heel hard into the side of Kitty's head. The jaguar whimpered and stumbled aside, just as an arrow zipped past him, aiming right between Negaduck's eyes.

Negaduck flipped back on his hands, the arrow speeding by above him. He cut down the next arrow as he stood up; grabbed Kitty and used him as a shield for the third. The jaguar squealed, the arrow lodged deep in his thigh.

Piggy groaned as he dragged himself groggily from the water. Negaduck twisted Kitty's arm behind his back, forcing him onto his knees. He flipped open his butterfly knife, held it to the attacker's throat. Piggy immediately froze; he looked down the tunnel, conflicted.

"Normally I'd charge for that show," Negaduck hissed, "but fortunately, I'm still in a good mood. So long as you stay off my bad side, I'll just cut this knob a little instead of slitting his jugulars."

Kitty whined. "B-Boss!"

Negaduck snarled, meant to sink the blade in just enough to pierce the skin, but was suddenly distracted by the sound of... clapping? It was coming from the tunnel both thugs were staring down, dire looks on their faces. The clapping grew louder, faster as it came closer, and Negaduck couldn't help but instinctively preen at that wonderful, familiar sound.

"Not bad, not bad. Guess Horny was right."

Negaduck flinched, a chill running down his spine. Three new figures emerged from the shadows--two dressed in black like their partners, arrows strung on bows, and between them... Between them was a tall duck with very wide shoulders and a very long chin. He was dressed more casually--combat boots, torn undershirt, ugly blue vest, sharp studded leather bracelets. His dyed hair was done in a buzzcut with a small rat tail braid and whiskers on his elongated bottom bill.

Trashy 90s' chic immediately came to Negaduck's mind. Right after wondering if this duck happened to have an almost identical looking brother in Duckburg.

Negaduck blinked. "Faint...?" He shook his head, tightening his grip on Kitty's arm. "Lemme guess. You must be the b-boss."

The duck stopped clapping, a shit-eating grin on his face. "You can call me the Night of Pain. S'like knight with a K, but without the K, 'cause knights with a K are all noble ninnies," he said, all the while pulling out a bazooka to rest on his shoulder. "Plus I work mostly at night. And the night's cool, 'cause it's all dark an' ominous--ya get it."

Negaduck rolled his eyes. "How about I just call you NP, big bird?"

NP shrugged. "No problem."

"Good, tha--nnn..." Negaduck scowled, annoyed. "So you're the guy with all the weapons?"

"I deal in arms," NP said, hefting up his gun, "and I deal in arms." He flexed his thick biceps.

Negaduck wanted to gag, and not just from the smell of this place. "You welcome all your potential customers with assassins?" he snorted.

"Not all of 'em. Not unless they threaten the kids, or cop some big attitude," NP sneered. "Horny was a small fry. Like swattin' a gnat. You didn't need t'be so violent with the squealer."

"I think I've earned my bragging rights."

"That you have. An' not only did I wanna see how ya operate, I wanted t'make sure I got the bird right." NP laughed. "An' I was right! Yer Darkwing Duck! At least, yer some freak who dresses up like 'im. But you got the moves." He sighed nostalgically, shaking his head. "Man, I loved that show growin' up. I told myself, one day I'll meet a guy like Darkwing, an' pummel his smug face right inta the ground."

Negaduck was silent, eyes narrowed.

"What? Did I hurt yer feelin's, callin' you a freak?"

"I'm not Darkwing Duck," Negaduck said through grit teeth, body going tense. "I'm not... Darkwing Duck."

NP blinked, clearly baffled.

"Suppose you heard the news there's an active Darkwing Duck parading around Duckburg?" Negaduck asked, shoulders relaxing.

NP laughed. "Yeah! Are you an' him friends or somethin'?"

"Our relationship goes beyond any sort of known bond," Negaduck chortled. "There's no name for the kinship we share."

NP blinked again. "... All right." He pointed his bazooka at Negaduck. Kitty wailed. "Sorry, Jaybird, but I needa know if this weirdo works for Darkwing."

"Do I look like someone who 'works for Darkwing'?" He gestured at his suit.

NP squinted. "Uhh... that a trick question, or...?"

"Yes, okay, our suits are the same, but that's because I am Darkwing Duck's arch-nemesis!" Negaduck exclaimed. "I am the menace that terrorizes the night! I am the sickly smog of crime suffocating the city of justice! I a--!"

"Hey! The last episode! Darkwing's evil clone twin thing!" NP interjected, beaming. "Okay, I think I ge--"

" _Negaduck_!" Negaduck screamed, cleanly snapping Kitty's arm in half. "I'm Negaduck! I'm Darkwing Duck's arch-nemesis! I'm the new king of crime, and my reign's just begun! I'm going to bring St. Canard to its knobbly, weak knees and make it beg for mercy!"

NP stared. Then he and his minions laughed. Not Kitty, who was sobbing in pain. Negaduck shivered with rage, his eyes turning red.

"Ain't no king of crime here," NP huffed. "No leaders, no followers. Every back-stabbing, oily, vile, murderous criminal has free range! An' we all support one another by mindin' our own business an' offin' those who don't. Jus' don't bother the two mob families, they're not as nice."

"You-- How dare--" Negaduck's teeth rattled, his grip crushing fractured bone. Kitty yelped. "Shuddup! I'm talking!" Negaduck slashed the thug's throat open. His coworkers didn't look too bothered. "Things are gonna change around here. I'm takin' over. And if you ain't with me, you're against me."

NP snorted. "That so? 'Cause I'm only seein' a little duck dressed up like some old fake superhero with the colors reversed in negative or somethin' I dunno."

"It doesn't matter. I didn't ask you here for your opinion," Negaduck hissed, shoving the dying jaguar over. Before the two archers could fire their arrows, Negaduck held up his brick of cash. NP's eyes instantly lit up, and he hungrily licked his bill. "I got the ammo. Now all I need is the gun."

NP wiped his beak. He gestured the archers and Piggy back, casually strolling up to Negaduck. "Can you make it worth my while, Negs?" he asked, eyebrows cocked.

Negaduck jeered. "More than a couple thousands' worth."

NP swooned. He leaned down closer to Negaduck's height and held out his hand. "Welcome t' St. Canard, Negaduck," he said.

Negaduck stared apprehensively at the hand. He stepped over the dead boy, sealing the space. He took NP's large hand and shook it.

"Yanno," NP smirked, "this looks like the beginnin' of a radical new friendship."

\----

This Launchpad looking "Night of Pain" indeed had a colorful arsenal of weapons. So many choices, and Negaduck wanted one of each. But he needed more money, and he needed to finish his plan. For the time being, Negaduck purchased exactly eleven powerful bombs.

"Whatcha plan on doin' with those?" NP asked.

Negaduck grunted, throwing the sack of explosives over his shoulder. "In St. Canard, you knobs mind your own business, and kill those who don't, isn't that right?"

NP chuckled, raising his hands. "All right, all right."

Negaduck just needed a week.

On Monday, Negaduck posed as a homeless man sitting outside the West Saint Bank. While some good citizens gave him money, others ignored him. Negaduck successfully pick-pocketed a few of them while walking down the crowded streets. One stork in a business suit cursed him out, told him to clean up and get a job. That night, just as the stork parked in his house driveway, Negaduck leapt out from the backseat and pulled him over. No one seemed to notice the car violently shaking for a good ten minutes, nor did anyone care about the bum leaving the neighborhood with a fancy new briefcase.

_("It's not worth anything," Negaduck said, showing NP the gift box with earrings inside. "That smartass thought they were diamonds. They're zircons. I did that cheapskate's dick sleeve a favor."_

_"They look like the real thing, though," NP said._

_"You won't get more than $20 for those. Consider it a little something extra for that set of ninja stars you brought me.")_

On Tuesday, Negaduck posed as a delivery man for the Early Bird Post Office. He snuck into the back, pushing around a cart of letters and packages, sorting through them. Before Negaduck left, he stole all the food out of the fridge. He spent a half hour at home ripping open letters he smuggled out, all containing gift cards, checks, or cash.

_("All of these for that pie launcher. That's at least $600 worth in gift cards."_

_NP thought a moment. "... Well, I could give you a discount for the $50 Bait 'n' Switch Shop card. I love their lures, an' their dried fish scale novelty candies.")_

On Wednesday, Negaduck pretended to trip while walking to a table in Lyre's Diner. A waitress helped him up, though he was clumsy and kept scrambling. After complaining about his sore knee, and the fact he had slipped on ketchup someone had failed to clean up, the manager offered him a free lunch. Negaduck was all too happy to accept. 

A few hours later, he stopped by Cat and Canary's restaurant for dinner. Same clumsy fall, same trick, but this manager didn't fall for it. Which was fine. Negaduck slashed his tires before he went home.

_(Negaduck emptied the silverware, syrup bottles, mini-jam packets, a handful of individually wrapped toothpicks, and at least two dozen dinner mints on the table. NP picked the candies up. "I was just flexing my muscles. Made sure my skills weren't cramping up," Negaduck explained. "You can have them or whatever. I got what I wanted.")_

Negaduck took the bus to Oryx & Osprey's, a law firm. He never bothered to go inside, but did spend some time in the alley beside it. With the hustle and bustle of the main street, Negaduck easily chipped out a brick in the wall. Once he finished, he placed it back, brushing off any dust or debris. He stopped, spotting something hanging from the dumpster.

_(Negaduck laid the dirty maroon red coat on the table; there were holes in the sleeves, one at the collar, a huge stain on the back._

_"Who the fuck would throw away somethin' nice like this?" NP spat. He took the coat, put it on; an almost perfect fit, but he could pull it off._

_"I thought you might say that.")_

On Thursday, Negaduck went to the Mall of St. Canard, cruising and window shopping. There were many interesting items he wanted; some he just looked at, some he stole. He beat a pimply teenager up, pulled him into a supply closet, and came out wearing his outfit as a cook for the Hungry Hippos Burger Stop. While Negaduck hadn't been there long, and flipping burgers, scooping up fries, and pouring milkshakes was easy enough, one customer apparently complained about a feather in her food and sent it back. She received a new burger--no feather this time. She wouldn't be so happy if she knew what Negaduck replaced the feather with.

_("Here. I stole the entire pack," Negaduck said, tossing a brick of paper to NP. They were discount coupons for hamburgers at Hungry Hippos Burger Stop. "The food's disgusting. Maybe you'll like it." All things considered, Negaduck thought, eyeing NP's outfit.)_

Thursday morning, Negaduck stole a factory worker's jumpsuit from his locker--and any valuable items therein. He easily blended in with the rest of the workers at the Elmer Toothpaste Factory, screwing lids onto the tubes and packing them neatly. Negaduck pocketed one, threw some in the incinerator, and squirted an entire tube in the water fountain.

_("Well, shit, Negs," NP said, shocked, "this is the expensive stuff." He pointed at the tube of toothpaste in his hand._

_"I already have ten," Negaduck grumbled, "and the flavor's not bitter enough.")_

On Friday, Negaduck went shopping at House of Fine Fresh Foods. He didn't buy much, but spent a while loitering in the bakery section. He couldn't help but open jars of food to stick his fingers inside, pop holes into the packaged meats, and shake up all the bottles of soda. Before he left, he opened six of the bottles, watching them explode everywhere, alarming customers and startling a crying baby.

_(Negaduck tossed a grocery bag full of gum packets to NP. "I took whatever was closest on the way out," he snorted. "You have them; I'm particular about my brands, anyway."_

_"Ah, sweet!" NP laughed, proceeding to stuff twenty strips of different flavored gum in his mouth.)_

On Saturday, Negaduck bought a coffee at O'Riole's Cafe. He went to the bathroom, spending more than twenty minutes inside. The two waiters on duty went to check on him, but Negaduck came storming out, chiding the servers for invasion of privacy. They apologized profusely and when Negaduck threatened to speak to the manager, one of them gave him all their tips. When Negaduck called it out as "shush money," the waiter also gave him a coupon for a free medium coffee and doughnut his next visit. This was acceptable.

_(The next day, NP showed up in the cafe, frightening the staff and scaring out the other customers. He loomed over the same waiter who had bribed Negaduck and then, with a friendly smile, held out the voucher.)_

On Sunday, Negaduck sat on a bench outside the Museum of Natural (and Unnatural) History, reading a newspaper and tearing up bits of bread. There was an article about Darkwing Duck's escapades, and a recent sighting in St. Canard. Negaduck grinned, tossing the bread to the flocks of pigeons. Almost immediately the pigeons fell over, foaming at the mouth. Bread wasn't good for these little guys, but it probably had something more to do with the arsenic he soaked the loaf in.

After lounging a while longer outside the Museum, Negaduck headed downtown to East St. Canard Hospital. He sat in the lobby, near the reception desk, pretending to read or play on his phone. He observed and listened closely to all those who came and went. Fifteen minutes later, a middle-aged swan holding a potted cactus asked to see Cygnus Coscoroba. The nurse gave her his room number and she went on her way.

Almost a half hour passed. Negaduck had gone through at least a dozen pills. But he waited and, eventually, the swan returned, leaving with tears in her eyes. Negaduck slunk down a hall, where a slumbering patient sat in his wheelchair, colorful birthday balloons tied to his arm rest. Negaduck easily stole them, went to the receptionist's desk, and asked to see his dear old friend Cygnus Coscoroba.

Cygnus was an ancient swan, currently in a catatonic state. Why in the Hell did the lady bring him a gift then? What was she even doing up here for so long? Negaduck released the balloons out the window and went to work. Once Negaduck finished, he looked for anything of worth among the gifts--nothing. As punishment for his uselessness, Negaduck took out a black marker and drew obscene pictures all over the swan's snoring face.

Negaduck made sure to snatch a cup of jello from a cart when he left.

_("It's too sweet," Negaduck growled, shoving the cup in NP's hands. "I hate sweet things."_

_NP, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted and gobbled the jello down.)_

As Sunday came to an end, Negaduck hopped onto his stained, rickety old mattress and pulled his hat down over his eyes, cushioning his head on folded arms. "Big day tomorrow," he chuckled. He fell asleep with a smile on his beak.

\----

"He's here. I can practically smell him."

NP looked up from loading his grenade launcher. He cocked an eyebrow. "Darkwing smells like pizza?" he asked.

Negaduck growled. "No, you idiot. That's the pizzeria down the street." He started pacing the rooftop, wind billowing his cape up in the air. "What I mean is... He's close. He's coming. And he's going to see my masterpiece, and he's going to realize he has no choice but to join the show." His eyes were demoniacal; he rubbed his hands together. "Oh, and then it can all begin. I'll be everywhere--in the news, WANTED pictures, my face burned forever into the fearful minds of St. Canard's residents."

"... Yo'kay," NP said, shrugging. "But I gotta say... you haven't told me a damn thing about your 'city-wide domination' plan. So I'm not really a big believer."

Negaduck snarled, whipping around to face NP. He was still grinning. "You'll see. Tonight, you'll see. Once you realize I am the most dangerous threat to Darkwing Duck, you'll swear loyalty to me and see me for the true mastermind that I am."

NP frowned. "Hey... I thought we were friends."

Negaduck frowned. "We've known each other for less than a month."

"Yeah, but... I mean, the gifts an' all. We've been hangin' out a lot, too. And I did say this looks like the start to a radical new friendship."

Negaduck blinked. "... I don't need friends," he scowled. "You're my weapons' supplier. We have a professional relationship." He turned his back on NP. "That's all it is."

NP sighed. "Hurts deep, man."

Negaduck looked over his shoulder at the sulking duck. "I'm _evil_ , you recall?"

"Total ice princess."

"Rotten to the c--"

"Hey!" NP shouted, nearly slapping Negaduck upside the head with his grenade launcher. He pointed to the skies, at the familiar plane flying overhead. "Ain't that the Thunderquack!" He aimed his gun at the ship, peering through the rifle scope. "Gonna be Thundercrash in just a min--"

Negaduck shoved NP away, shrieking. "Don't shoot it down, you imbecile!" He waved his fists. "You'll ruin everything!"

"Yeah, but what is your plan, huh?" NP snapped. "'Cause so far all you've been doin' is wanderin' around the city like some tourist. An' gee, I _hate_ tourists." He tapped a finger lightly on the trigger.

Negaduck grabbed NP by the vest, yanked him down so they were beak to beak. "Don't you dare threaten me," he barked, "unless you want to see the insides of your own ass."

"Maybe I do!" NP shouted. He pulled back. "At least you'd be doin' _somethin'_ other than runnin' yer mouth--"

"You wanna see something!" Negaduck roared, eyes practically red. He held up a remote with one big button. "I'll show you something!" He pushed the button.

One by one, the bombs Negaduck planted throughout St. Canard went off. People ran screaming through the streets as debris fell from above, massive fires casting clouds of smoke over the city. People stopped to help pull survivors out from the wreckage until ambulance and police came.

NP gaped, turning in a full circle--there was at least one giant explosion at every point in the city.

Negaduck threw his head back, arms spread, and cackled. It was so diabolical, so insane, NP found himself backing away from the maniacal duck. 

"Don't you see it, Darkwing?" Negaduck panted, all his feathers standing on end. He trembled, absolutely euphoric, staring into the smoky sky. "Look closely! Look closely, and get ready for the show of a lifetime!" He broke into deranged laughter as the city panicked and collapsed around him.

\----

Two hundred injured. Countless more dead or dying.

"Why would he do such a thing?" Launchpad whispered. It felt like a dagger had been twisted in his heart. "Jim... I knew he'd gone crazy, but..."

Darkwing Duck quietly looked over his computer screen. "It wasn't random," he said finally, voice quiet and disturbingly void of any emotion.

Launchpad hurried over to his side. "Whatta mean? Did you find any clues?"

Darkwing scrolled down a list of the buildings where the bombs originated. "The bombs went off one second apart from each other. The first was West Saint Bank, then Early Bird Post Office, Lyre's Diner, Cat and Canary's, Oryx & Osprey's, Mall of St. Canard, Elmer Toothpaste Factory, House of Fine Fresh Foods, O'Riole's Cafe, Museum of Natural (and Unnatural) History, and East St. Canard Hospital."

"So what's the connection?"

Darkwing's eyes were vacant. "If you list all the names vertically and in chronological order, the first letter of each place is: W, E, L, C, O, M, E, H, O, M, E." He inhaled, head bowing into his folded, shaking hands.

It took Launchpad a minute. His body fell boneless into a chair.

\----

## PART 3

##  \----

"Home, sweet home!"

Negaduck threw open the door, stepping over the threshold proudly. He gestured around the room. "Look at this beauty. And she came at such a low price!"

NP followed Negaduck into the house. The walls were rotten, wallpaper peeling off in crispy, thin strands. In the living room were two recliners that looked like a wild pack of dogs had gotten to them. A sofa that was in the same condition, more or less. Various objects--a lamp, coffee table--lay scattered on the ground among shards of glass, wood chips, and a thick layer of dust. Yellowed, cheap paintings and empty frames hung crookedly, ready to fall at even the slightest movement. Abandoned cobwebs draped from the corners of the ceiling and the busted, limp ceiling fan.

NP placed his hands on his hips. "This is one total babe," he said, nodding firmly.

"There's two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen," Negaduck said, pushing open the creaking kitchen doors, only for them to fall off behind him. He reemerged holding an old, boxy TV. "Once I get the electricity back on," he said, tossing the TV out the broken window, "her true colors will really shine."

"She's a bit of a fixer-upper, yeah," NP said, rubbing his neck. "Nothin' a little elbow grease and flamethrower can't take care of." He pointed along the ceiling. "Y'thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? What you should hang up here?"

Negaduck beamed. "The skulls of my enemies!"

"Well, I was gonna say baby doll heads, but that's a totally better idea. Hell, you should get some of those freaky old gnome figurines an' put 'em on the table. Get one with eyes that light up."

"You really think I'm into _kitsch_?" Negaduck scoffed, throwing his hat on a clown-shaped rocking chair.

"You sure this place is safe? Like, y'think Dipwing won't find it?" NP asked, stepping on a spider, releasing dozens of spiderlings.

"It's buried so deep in this shithole... Of course he'll suspect this place," Negaduck guffawed. "That's why..." He flipped the dining room table over, rolling back a rug that smelled faintly of piss. Beneath it was a hatch door; Negaduck swung it open.

NP gasped.

"Secret dank, scary basement!" they cried in unison, face to face and giddily bouncing.

"Course I'll make sure it's not so easy to find," Negaduck said, climbing down the stairs. NP scampered over, peering into the darkness. "But it's more roomy down here than up there." A white hand reached out, beckoning NP down. "C'mere."

NP followed, although he couldn't see a thing. With a tiny hiss, Negaduck lit a match. "And, as you can see," he said, turning the faint light on a massive collection of weapons, both stolen and bought, "I'm gonna need all the room I can get."

\----

The stage had been set. The curtains had parted. And the show had begun.

Negaduck didn't remember the last time he felt so alive. A life of crime was more thrilling than he initially imagined. But now he could see why so many of his old fans took a liking to the colorful cast of villains--they didn't care about anything, they had no sense of sanity, they were all loose cannons who just had fun wrecking and ruining lives. 

Negaduck's crimes weren't done for no rhyme or reason, however. Otherwise there wouldn't be a story. And to have a story, you needed a hero.

Darkwing Duck had taken up residence in St. Canard, just as Negaduck hoped he would. But his identity as Drake Mallard was never registered. Either he finally accepted his life as Darkwing Duck for good, or he was operating under a new name with a new life. Negaduck never sought his nemesis out; there was still so much fun to be had.

Negaduck was everywhere, always shadowing Darkwing Duck in whatever news or other mentions of the hero. (It _wasn't_ the other way around.) Negaduck didn't care about the slander and hateful things the press and public said about him--he knew they were scared, and he had them all on their tippy-toes, constantly watching their backs. Negative feedback was better than no feedback, and he _was_ an evil lunatic. 

Why, Negaduck could hardly flip through TV channels anymore without some report or discussion of St. Canard's masked mallards--the criminal, and the hero.

They liked bringing up Jim Starling. Liked talking about his past, his fall from grace, his madness. Some painted him as tragic, maybe even a little sympathetic. Some diagnosed him with a variety of mental health issues. It was the only thing Negaduck hated--Jim Starling was a loser, a nobody. He shouldn't be sharing the spotlight with Negaduck and Darkwing Duck. One therapist on a late night talk show posed the possibility of Negaduck having a major, deadly blend of inferiority and superiority complexes.

Despite himself, Negaduck rang the station up. On air, he threatened to prove the therapist wrong when he broke into her home with a blowtorch and chainsaw. See who was "inferior" and "superior" then. The broadcast had been cut short, TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES sign flashed on the screen; Negaduck hung up before he could be flooded with questions.

Four days after robbing one of St. Canard's banks, Negaduck went out in a casual disguise. As he headed for the store to pick up some groceries, he suddenly heard his name like thunder from the sky. Negaduck turned, eyes wide. The screen on the jumbotron in the heart of St. Canard showed a full body photo of Negaduck as captured on a security camera. He was yelling, gun pointed at a group of hostages, bag of money over his shoulder and a (fake) bomb strapped to his belt.

Negaduck could have cried.

Launchpad had become a permanent fixture in Darkwing's life, too, although he was usually kept off camera. While Negaduck had actually seen Launchpad out and about, he kept his distance. He'd kidnap the idiot one day; that'd make for delightful drama.

Although Negaduck wouldn't admit to having NP as a sidekick, the big bird did help him out quite a bit. He was charging less and less for weapons, until finally he just practically gave them away. "Lending" them, he said, but he'd yet to ask for any of them back. Negaduck rarely took NP out with him while on "business". And the two times he did, it was for NP's muscle, his ability to intimidate those who had yet to accept Negaduck as the new boss of crime--also, he was a really nice, big meat shield.

Negaduck had yet to be challenged by the other criminals lurking in St. Canard. But none of them were supervillains. They tried taking Darkwing Duck on by themselves occasionally, and they all lost. Negaduck sometimes failed, too, but he always got away. It was fun, watching these weaklings flounder. He supposed there might have been some sort of pissing contest--maybe these dimwits wanted to show Negaduck up. Or, maybe, they were courting him for a partnership?

But Negaduck worked alone. No one would tie him down. This was his and Darkwing Duck's fight; this was _their_ show, and it would remain that way until one or both of them retired--surrendering willingly or by death.

\----

Darkwing Duck once said Negaduck's own hubris would be his downfall. He had a point. And never had that point been so very strong and very clear than right now, as Negaduck was forced to retreat from Darkwing and Launchpad and their new gadgets.

Just where the Hell did Darkwing get those weapons? They were custom pieces, nothing you could find on any market, legal or illegal. Who was he commissioning for these items? Was it Scrooge McDuck? It couldn't be, not that greedy old codger. Drake, or whatever his name was now, couldn't possibly have a job he could hold down and make money enough to constantly be producing these toys.

Someone had to be financing him. Someone powerful must have had his back.

Negaduck would dwell on that later. Right now he just needed to get out of the building. It sure would be helpful if there was someone else here to distract the heroes, or keep one of them busy. Negaduck needed a hostage, but of course he just had to try stealing the company's sensitive new computer software at the dead of night, when everyone was at home and the janitors were nowhere to be captured.

"Halt, Negaduck!" Darkwing cried, suddenly appearing in a puff of gas in front of the elevator. 

Negaduck snarled and turned for the emergency stairway. Darkwing took out a gun, fired, but not at Negaduck. Goo sprayed the ground, made it slick; Negaduck screamed as he slid on wet floor, twirling and twirling until he was twisted up in his cape. He tripped, landing face first on the ground, tail stuck up in the air and angrily wagging.

Launchpad popped out from the emergency stairway. "I'm here, DW!" he panted.

Negaduck kicked and screamed as he unfurled himself. He flailed, crawling and rolling away from Darkwing slowly and carefully approaching him. Negaduck jumped up, foot kicking out from under him as if he tripped on soap. He hit a window, breaking the glass and falling out.

Negaduck shrieked. They were only a few stories up, and the ground was getting closer and closer. He searched his belt for anything he could use to break his fall, or at least make it a little less painful--or fatal. 

A rope suddenly wrapped around his leg, jerking him to a stop with a winded _oomph_. Negaduck held onto his hat, looking up. Darkwing stood in the windowsill, grappling gun in hand. At least Negaduck could recognize that old chestnut.

"Don't move, Nega--"

"Bite me!" Negaduck barked, swinging hard enough to latch onto a stone gargoyle. He raised his head, glared and hissed in the gargoyle's snarling face. Negaduck clung to the statue, fumbling with the rope around his leg. Darkwing was trying to pull him back up; Negaduck's arm strained, struggling to hold onto the gargoyle. Just a little more--

Negaduck broke free, quacked as he slipped off the ledge, hanging from the gargoyle's neck. He looked down--he couldn't jump, not if he wanted to break his legs. But Darkwing was using the rope to climb down now, Launchpad securing it in place.

Negaduck had been in situations like this before. Close calls that would have ended his still blossoming career in crime. But there was always a back-up plan, always a way out, be it by luck or careful planning beforehand.

Not this time. Negaduck wouldn't be able to walk quickly enough on the ledge to the nearest window before Darkwing got his hands on him.

"I'm putting an end to this _now_ , Negaduck," Darkwing growled, just ten feet above his target's head.

"Dammit!" Negaduck screamed, kicking his legs stubbornly. "No! I'm not done! The show's--"

"Head's up, Negs!"

All heads turned to look down. NP sat on his motorcycle, pie launcher on his shoulder and pointed at Darkwing. He fired, the pie hitting Darkwing directly. The dough suddenly expanded and stretched, consuming all but Darkwing's head in a giant sticky blob, pasting him to the side of the building like a booger.

"DW!" Launchpad gasped.

"Help me down!" Negaduck shouted, mounted on the gargoyle's back.

"No prob!" NP winked. He shot two more pies on the ground in front of him. They grew and doubled in size, becoming thick and large enough to form a big cushion of goop.

This was not the way Negaduck wanted this battle to end, but... Negaduck took a deep breath and dove off the gargoyle. He landed safely on the blob, only to slowly be sucked inside. "NP!" he cried, voice muffled, clawing and grasping at the air as he sank in deeper. "Goodaa--"

NP reached inside the blob, easily plucking the duck free. Negaduck hung in his hand like a wet, frustrated cat, dripping with dough. He glanced up; Launchpad was climbing down the rope to cut Darkwing Duck free.

"C'mon!" Negaduck snapped. "Get me out of here!"

NP tossed Negaduck on the back of his bike. He turned around one last time, squinting at Launchpad. "Heeey..." he mumbled, stroking his bottom bill.

"Ffffreakin' go go go!" Negaduck whined, beating on the bike's handles.

NP plopped down on the motorcycle. "Hold on tight." He didn't finish before revving the engine, the bike rearing off the ground like a steel stallion. Negaduck yelped, practically clung himself to NP's back (although later he'd find it difficult to peel himself off, thanks to the sticky pie goo.) "See ya, nerds!" the larger duck cackled, saluting the two heroes before racing out onto the street, nearly colliding with a car, pulling onto the sidewalk and knocking over a row of garbage cans as he drove away.

Once they were far enough away, NP looked back at Negaduck, smiling. "You don't gotta say 'thank you,' but it'd be totally cool if you wanted to," he said.

"If I survive your horrendous driving!" Negaduck screamed. He screamed louder, pointing at the oncoming truck.

NP abruptly turned onto a curb, almost running over a silver painted living statue of Darkwing Duck. "Oops," he smirked, moving back onto the road. "Too bad that wasn't the real thing, huh?"

Negaduck's heart was racing a mile a minute, going about the same speed as the bike. Nonetheless, he slowly wrapped his arms tighter around NP's mid-section, resting his face against his back.

NP chortled. "We'll be home in no time, Negs."

\----

After nearly three minutes of glowering at the photo of Darkwing Duck and Launchpad on the wall, Negaduck blinked his blood shot eyes. He lazily threw another dart, and like the fourteen before that, missed.

"You haven't slept for almost two days, Negs," NP said, rolling onto his back in the bed.

Negaduck simply grunted from his seat on the edge of the mattress, dressed down to his skull and crossbones black boxers. Another dart, another miss.

NP frowned, folding his arms under his head. "Are you still mad I came an' saved yer butt last week?" he asked.

Negaduck grunted, but angrier this time.

"Look," NP sighed, rolling his eyes, "I get it. Ya don't wanna sidekick. But the least you could do--"

"I need help."

NP blinked twice. He looked over to Negaduck slouching forward. 

"I... need help," Negaduck grumbled, the dart shaking in his hand.

NP propped himself up on his elbows. "Well... I mean, work's been kinda slow lately. Seems you've been runnin' people outta town." He chuckled. "So I got some extra free time, if you need a hand an' all." He reached over, lightly tugging the feathers down Negaduck's back. "It'll be fun. I kinda miss bein' out an' fightin'."

"It's not that I can't do my work alone," Negaduck scowled. "I just need extra manpower. Need... decoys. Preferably easily manipulated but skilled de--I mean, help."

"So, what? You gonna put an ad out fer a supervillain team?" NP laughed. Negaduck didn't reply. "Hey... If you want, y'know... I got some connections of my own. You seen some of my guys. Pretty hardy, and good with weapons."

Negaduck snorted. "Took me less than two minutes to take them out."

"Nah. Those guys were nothin'. I'm talkin' real tough fuckers. Crazy like you. Like money an' hurtin' people an' stuff. Y'know, yer typical bad eggs."

Negaduck slowly raised his head. "Bad eggs, huh?" He looked back at NP from the corner of his eye. He thought a moment, brows furrowed. "I suppose I could--ack!"

NP flinched as Negaduck stumbled off the bed, clutching his head. "Stupid fuckin' dumb idiotic...!" he hissed and spat, yanking out a dresser drawer. He dug through numerous empty pill bottles, searching for a full one. His teeth clenched, grinding loudly, eyelid twitching.

"Ya sure been havin' lotsa headaches these days. More than usual."

"Get off--piss!" Negaduck spat, one eye slowly rolling off to the side. He finally found a bottle with pills, swallowing all of them.

NP knew Negaduck had suffered some sort of bad head trauma in the past. He never told him what happened, since it didn't really matter. NP wondered if there was something more serious going on in that noggin. Maybe his skull was fractured? Maybe he was only batshit insane because of his head getting bashed in? If doctors could somehow fix it, would Negaduck lose his demented, sadistic personality? Would he function more like some normie? Would he... start wearing sweater vests and learn to cook?

NP decided then: if Negaduck ever considered seeing a doctor, NP would squash those thoughts immediately. He liked this Negaduck. He would keep him this way.

"... I was... foolish."

NP sat up.

"I thought I had set the stage. All the pieces were in place. But I neglected one major element. One part of the show that kept the energy alive, and Darkwing Duck constantly on edge."

"Wazzat?" NP asked.

Negaduck turned to him with a malicious grin. The first one NP had seen in days.

"The Fearsome Four."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A number of scenes in the first part of this fic are inspired or even closely mirrored from a couple movies, especially Batman Returns.


	2. Chapter 2

## PART 4

##  \---

NP didn't need to be told who and what the Fearsome Four was. He watched the show. The villains were the best part, and he idolized every member of the team. Only this time, there'd be five teammates instead of four.

Negaduck accepted his offer to look for anyone who'd fit the bill. His spirit had returned, and NP was determined not to let him down.

It took a few days, NP screening a number of possible candidates. But he wasn't the expert--only the guy who once played Darkwing Duck would truly know who fit the roles best. Out of the sixteen NP interviewed, he brought fifteen to Negaduck to pick and choose.

"You couldn't narrow it down any further?" Negaduck growled, massaging his temples. He sat at a table in an abandoned factory, NP at his side and flipping through papers.

"Any one of these could possibly be the perfect three," NP explained, "I dinnit wanna risk it." Yes, three, because two of the five Fearsome Five members were currently sitting at the table.

Negaduck slouched back in his seat, sliding on his sunglasses. "Call the first one in."

"Sure," NP replied, then turned and shrieked, "yo, Number Fifteen, get in here!"

Negaduck cringed in pain, kicking the table.

And so the auditions began. It was a colorful cast of criminals. Most had a unique quality or theme, but not strong or good enough for Negaduck. He shouted "Next!" to five candidates before they could even say a word. One only got a foot into the room before being turned away. And when Negaduck looked like he was deep in thought, really listening and considering the person--"Next!"

However, there were three particular candidates who showed promise.

Candidate 13: A tall, lean black and white piebald duck, the right side of her head shaved (with stars shaved into the short, fine hairs), the left side long hair dyed in galactic blue, purple, and black. Her face was caked in dark make-up, earrings chunky crescent moons. 13 wore an asymmetrical coat, half leather, half cotton, the buttons spiky studs, same as the ones on her leather belt and fingerless gloves. Her skirt was made up of large lacy frills with skin tight shorts and knee high boots covered in doodles.

"Melody Amber Phoenix," Negaduck grumbled, walking right up to the duck... who was a couple heads taller than him. "Alias Splatter Phoenix. Allegedly behind twenty-two art museum robberies, stealing over seventy pieces. You were also suspected in the murder of three art curators, two esteemed art critics, and a married couple with a rare art collection you also stole from. However, you've only been officially charged with six counts of defacing property, selling merchandise without a permit, and assaulting a man at an art gala for calling a painting 'quotidian and tacky.'"

Splatter Phoenix sneered. "Just goes to show you how warped the public mind has become, numbed to the abstract and metaphysical spirit true art should stimulate and provoke."

Negaduck stared at her, unimpressed.

Splatter Phoenix tossed back her hair. "And not allegedly. I was behind all those robberies and missing pieces, as well as the murders and every other supposed charge placed against me. The secret lies in my genius, wherein there lies my power." She dug into her coat, and just as Negaduck reached to get his knife, Splatter pulled out a paintbrush with old stains on the edge--the paint almost seemed to... glisten. "You see, I've created a special chemical compound that allows me to manipulate matter to a certain degree, as well as produce a number of objects with a stroke of my brush."

"Uh huh," Negaduck replied, unconvinced.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Splatter said, grinning. She took out a vial of pink paint, wetting the brush with it. She stepped back and with a violent slashing of the brush in the air, painted what appeared to be a rope. The paint instantly dried, transforming into an actual rope. NP gasped and started clapping. Splatter did a sweeping bow before presenting the rope to Negaduck.

Negaduck cautiously took the rope. He pulled and tugged on it, tied it in knots. It was flexible, sturdy, just like any other rope. "Well," he said, throwing the rope back to Splatter, "ain't that a nice piece of work."

Splatter chuckled. "The reason I was never caught was due to my ability to create openings by simply painting them into various solid surfaces. All my doorways go a short distance, unfortunately, but are capable of allowing matter to pass through matter easily, albeit temporarily with an open window of one minute. Allow me…”

Negaduck watched Splatter closely as she walked to the table. She painted an almost perfect circle on an edge. A second later, it had turned into a hole. Splatter raised a finger, showed it to NP and Negaduck, then slid it inside, wiggled it around. Nothing happened; she pulled her finger back out. "This will remain open for one minute and one minute only."

Negaduck tilted his head. "And you wanted to join the Fearsome Five for what reason? To show off your artsy fartsy chops?"

"Well, there is that," Splatter smirked, striding back over to Negaduck. "Aside from displaying my masterpieces to the world, I... also need more financial aid to improve my chemical compound. I wish to further my studies by breaking down all limitations. To move fluidly through time and space, to manipulate and become one with art." She moaned, dramatically sweeping the back of her hand to her forehead. "I will usher forth a new era of art; I will be known as an icon, and one day they will build statues of me for my innovations--statues I can easily pass through, become one with, and never die."

"Hey," NP said, "that sounds pretty neat."

Negaduck looked Splatter Phoenix over. "You can paint us getaway doors as well as whip us up a variety of weapons, should we need them. What about living beings?"

"Alas, that's one of my limitations. I am only skilled in the inanimate. The facsimiles I create are all artificial and lifeless." Splatter painted up a Negaduck in an angry pose. "They are more or less intricate, oversized... chew toys."

Negaduck squinted at the copy, then kicked it hard in the torso. It let out a high pitched squeak before popping into a puddle of paint.

Splatter purred. "And I must say, never have I seen someone able to capture the pure, raw energy of unbridled carnage like y--"

"That's enough, Vincent van Quack," Negaduck said, waving a hand dismissively, "re-join the others. We'll call you back if you've been chosen, or you can just leave with the rest of the losers."

When Negaduck sat back down, the hole Splatter had painted was sealed closed.

Then there was candidate number 4. A very... strange combination of a person. While she looked like a duck, Negaduck could visibly see patches of scales on her hands and face, blending into spikes in her unruly blue hair, a complete frizzy mess sticking out in every direction. She looked sickly, eyes yellow with tired black bags, hunched over. She wore an outdated, knee length levi skirt, a stained blue turtleneck under her corduroy cardigan. 

Negaduck, however, was mostly intrigued by the fact this ugly duckling had a long, scaly, white reptilian tail.

NP held up her file. "This is Camille Chamele--"

"Jussst Camille isss fine," Camille whispered.

"Oh? What's wrong? You don't like being called Chameleon?" Negaduck laughed. "Funny, given the fact you've injected yourself with enough lizard DNA to become half of one." He gestured at her tail.

Camille squeaked. "How did you kn--"

"You wrote your entire backstory out on your file," Negaduck grumbled. "It made me nauseous, frankly, but I'm interested in what you can bring to the table."

Camille blushed, looking away. "Well... yesss, I do have transssformative powersss. I can shapeshift into an almost perfect copy of people, mossstly." She nervously rubbed her arm. "The issssue isss the larger I am, the more energy I ussse. If I grow thirty or forty feet, asss that hasss been my limit ssso far, I can only ssstay in that form lessss than fifteen to twenty minutesss before I sssstart getting woozy. Over twenty minutesss, I shrink by the foot; twenty-five to thirty minutesss, I’m my average ssself again, although lethargic and weak. The sssmaller I am, the lesss energy I exxxpend; thossse of sssimilar ssstature, sssuch as yourssselves, can lassst up to an hour before the disssguissse weakensss.” Camille looked pleadingly between the two ducks. “That’sss why I need more financccing for the materialsss to continue my exxxperiment. Only ssso many of thessse thingssss are accesss--”

"Enough with the exposition dump. Let's see what you're workin' with then," Negaduck ordered.

Camille inhaled deeply. When she exhaled, she was nearly thirteen feet tall, buff and thick, with more pronounced reptilian features. NP ooo'd and aaa'd, then ooo'd and aaaa'd when she shrunk down to the size of a doll, her little nubby tail wagging.

Negaduck nodded, neutral. "Now, turn yourself into one of him.” He jerked his thumb back at NP.

After a moment of concentration, Camille's body contorted and twisted and grew, transforming into an identical copy of NP, although the eyes remained yellow.

"Holy shit!" NP shouted. He ran over to Camille, held his hands up, moved them in circles. Camille humored him by mirroring his actions. "Negs, you see this!"

Camille looked to Negaduck, hopeful. "Ssso, did I make the cut?" Her voice and lisp were still noticeable in disguise as well.

Negaduck narrowed his eyes, leaving Camille hanging and turning back to her frumpy self. "Not bad," he said. "Your shape shifting could help us get out of tight spots, and your ability to disguise yourself as other people will do wonders for my little crime syndicate."

"That meansss--"

"It means, go back to the lobby. I'll call you back if you're in."

"When you were all huge an' stuff," NP said, "do that again some time so we can wrestle."

Camille walked away slowly. "Ahh, okay..."

Last came candidate 15. They wore a long dark black and blue robe, a staff with crystals embedded at the top in hand. Only their eerie yellow eyes were visible beneath the hood. 

Negaduck swished a hand at the candidate. "You call yourself... Phantom B? And you're... what? Some sorta wizard?"

Phantom B nodded.

The room was silent a moment. "Re-join the others," Negaduck ordered.

Almost two hours later, Negaduck finally picked out three possible candidates, reading their files and criminal records over and over. NP had dozed off, head resting against his shoulder, snoring and drooling.

"Hey, Sleepin' Fugly!" Negaduck snapped, slugging NP in the arm and waking him up. Negaduck tossed the papers in his face. "Call these schmucks back in."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Splatter Phoenix, Camille Chameleon, and Phantom B walked into the room, standing in a line before their superiors.

"Congrats, knobs," Negaduck snorted, "yer now part of the Fearsome Five."

Splatter Phoenix pumped a fist, cheering. "Finally! With your talent and mine working together, combined in a perfectly balanced and never before perceived color, we'll paint this town so much more than red!"

"Sure, kid."

Camille sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Thank you sssso much, Missster Negaduck," she whimpered, "for ssso long, all I wanted wasss to be accccepted by my peer--"

"You cut that tragic past shit out right now," Negaduck interjected, "or I'm going to vomit on your tail."

"Oh, yesss. Sssorry."

Phantom B simply tapped their cane on the ground twice.

"Hey, Negs, Negs!" NP said, practically radiant, "let's take a group photo!"

"Did you bring a camera?"

NP frowned. "... Shit."

"Not a problem!" Splatter laughed, brush out. A few graceful strokes and a camera dropped in her hands. "There's even a timer on it. You just can't beat the classics." She bowed as Camille clapped.

"Eh, why not," Negaduck snorted, shrugging. He set the timer, handing it to NP as the group came together.

NP placed it on the table, making sure the whole group was in the shot. He ran over to join them. Negaduck stood before his team, hands on his hips, a dangerous grin on his face. "Make some wind for the cape, wizard," he said to Phantom B. Phantom B tapped their staff twice, and Negaduck's cape flapped in an invisible wind.

Splatter Phoenix stood behind Negaduck on his right, paint brush raised and free hand giving the horns. Camille stayed at his left, patting down her hair uselessly; she raised her hands, claws curled and ready to pounce, forked tongue sticking out of her sinister smile. Phantom B lingered at the very end. NP jumped in at the other end, flexing his arms and puffing out his chest.

The camera snapped with a bright flash of light. It spit out a square shape of paint that quickly developed into a photo. Negaduck and the group looked over it. Aside from only half of NP appearing in the picture, it was perfect.

"Damn," NP whistled, "we needa frame this."

Camille bounced up and down. "Oh, oh! We should make our own handshake! Sssomething like--" She raised a hand. "Handsss up and shout, 'Go Fearsssome Five' before ssslapping them together!"

"Hell yeah!"

"Let's do it!"

"Absolutely fuckin' not," Negaduck scowled, "you weird-os."

\----

It was around the end of season three, when the Darkwing Duck show had really gained a large, dedicated fanbase that Jim Starling was able to sign on as a producer.

As such, he'd been given much more creative control; consequently, this inflated his ego to near maximum. Jim's possessive behavior, especially over his character, only got worse. While Jim argued with the writers and directors in the past, now he was demanding all scripts be run by him first, and more than half usually came back with major edits: more Darkwing Duck scenes, more action.

Jim's method acting also increased to obnoxious, if somewhat creepy, levels. Whenever he was on set, Jim ordered everyone to call him Darkwing. If anyone tried addressing him by Jim or Mister Starling, he ignored them. Although there'd been a few occasions where some staff swore when they called "Darkwing" Jim, he wasn't ignoring them--he legitimately seemed to have forgotten his real name.

Jim came to work dressed in costume, full make-up, and left work in full costume, maybe with less make-up. Although he tried to keep in-character off camera, the kind, heroic Darkwing suddenly flipped on a dime into the demanding, selfish Jim Starling. Scenes were shot over and over again if he didn't like them--scenes would keep rolling even if there were mistakes simply because he didn't want them to stop.

When Jim Starling first auditioned for Darkwing Duck, he came in so confident that this role was tailor made especially for him it was half the reason he'd been hired. The other half had to do with his acting chops, but as a special bonus, Jim had taken a few classes on martial arts and wrestling to really nail the audition and prove his point: he was Darkwing Duck. Nobody else could fill his cape.

It was admirable then. It was admirable when Jim started taking more and more classes: boxing, fencing, capoeira. Now, however, Jim spent most of his free time _just_ practicing and practicing. He practiced on his coworkers sometimes, too. An intern had brought him coffee, but it surprised Jim (or so he claimed) and suddenly the kid was in a headlock and flipped into a German suplex. Fortunately he'd only gotten a bruise, and Jim had convinced him it was his own fault for not saying anything when approaching him, and are you sure you, some nobody college student working for free, really want to go up against a big hot shot like Darkwing Duck? Jim had phrased it that way exactly.

The kid never did end up pursuing the matter. Jim had gotten very good at being manipulative; Darkwing Duck sought out enemies' weaknesses like a heat seeking missile. Jim had to do the same. It helped him put people into place, kept them in line so they followed his wishes and whims--that and he was both a producer and the show's main, titular character. Any talk of trying to replace him as the lead was shut down instantly.

Jim was on top of the world for a good couple of years. But as the sun rises, so does it set, and Jim's glory days were waning into dusk.

The show was losing its viewers. Even if it had a loyal fanbase who petitioned and helped keep Darkwing Duck on air a little longer, there was only so much they could do. Jim was losing power; his precious sand castle crumbling in his hands.

They still had time. They still had funding for the rest of the season. Jim would think of something, even if it killed him.

The idea came to Jim Starling one very late night. He'd been antsy all day, making the shoot more difficult than usual. When he got home, he was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Too anxious, too worried. He paced his dark condo, mumbling and rambling to himself, trying to think of ideas and ways to keep his show going.

Jim settled in front of his TV, watching and rewatching taped recordings of fan favorite episodes. What had drawn them in? What made these episodes stand out among all the others? Nothing was coming to Jim; he was so tired, bags formed under his eyes and his body shook. His staff didn't need to know he'd hardly been sleeping since they received the bad news. But nothing kept Darkwing Duck down.

Jim needed a break. His head hurt, his eyes were dry and burning, his stomach twisting and growling emptily. He reluctantly stopped the tapes and went to get a drink. It was when he came back and saw what was on the TV he'd finally found his inspiration.

A commercial for a new line of Darkwing Duck toys was playing. It was of the Fearsome Four. Same molds, different paint jobs. Each were primarily dressed in black with white eyes and streaks of neon colors. Megavolt was yellow, Bushroot was green, Quackerjack was purple, and Liquidator was blue. They could even glow in the dark. The set was called "Stealthy Scumbags". Jim waited until a Stealthy... Sleuth, maybe? Darkwing Duck appeared to complete the set and knock the other toys down.

There was no Darkwing Duck. The set was just the four main villains. It reminded him of other commercials: Quackerjack had become a sponsor for Elmer Toothpaste due to his big, shiny, buck toothed grin. Megavolt was an antihero in a series of safety shorts (focusing mostly on matters concerning electricity) to show in schools. Bushroot grew in popularity as an entrepreneur and spokesman for nature, and how the public could do their part in keeping Mother Earth happy and clean. Liquidator's sleazy salesman voice could be heard in car commercials, and sometimes even ended with stingers of him showing a family one of the vehicles.

Jim might have been furious if he wasn't so tired and suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

Jim snickered, eyes glinting as he picked his notebook and pen back up, scribbling down his thoughts. "If you can't beat 'em..."

"... A Darkwing Duck clone?"

Jim slapped a hand on the table, startling the writers and producers. "Not just a clone, but an _evil_ clone, created by the mad scientist Doctor Slug. The Fearsome Four have realized they're just not strong enough to take on Darkwing Duck, even as a team. So Slug reaches out to them with his clone: work for him and the clone will work for them. This evil Darkwing is a 'what if' version of our hero, had something bad happened to him and driven him to commit crime and cause mayhem." Jim paced around his peers at the table like a shark circling its prey, gesticulating wildly, that unsettling glimmer in his eyes. "Finally, Darkwing will face his greatest nemesis: himself!"

Jim finally stopped, turned around, arms akimbo and chest out. "So?" He looked between the writers and producers, big confident grin on his face. "Whatta think? No, actually--when do we start shooting!"

"It's actually a pretty good idea," one producer said.

"I'd... be interested in seeing where it'd go."

"But our budget is too limited to hire another--"

"Say no more!" Jim shouted, jumping on top of the table, knocking over a glass of water. "Who better to play evil Darkwing than Darkwing himself?"

"Er... But, your salary... again, our budget--"

"Don't worry about my salary just yet," Jim reassured, waving his hands, "we'll talk money once we start raking it in again. Besides, I think I'd like to try my hand at playing a bad guy. I don't fit in those roles as I'm such a good-doer, but I am willing to try and give it my all. So, for now, let's just say you can pay me in exposure." He winked at the uncomfortable producer. "But that does bring up another plot twist in the story. One I neglected to put in the script."

Everyone leaned forward in their seats.

"The Fearsome Four are initially hesitant to accept this evil Darkwing into their fold," Jim explained, "and while they don't ever truly bond or become friends, and yes, the clone will do a lot of solo crime sprees--what brings people together if not tragedy?" He slowly squatted, eyes wide and intense. "Think about it. What will convince these menacing monsters to agree to Doctor Slug's terms and accept the clone? If one of their own _dies_!"

The group gasped, whispering among one another.

"It'll still be the Fearsome Four, just... one of the villains gets replaced. I'm thinking Bushroot, honestly. He's too much of a coward, and with all of Insana's new business venues keeping him busy--"

"We can't just kill off one of the Fearsome Four!" a mousy writer squeaked. "The fans love the Four! If anything, viewer percentage would drop!"

"What's so intriguing and exciting about those schmucks anyway?" Jim scowled. He marched across the table, shoving his face against the writer's. "They barely have any character outside a flimsy backstory and one or two gimmicks! I mean, a clown? Who's even afraid of clowns these days? Come on!"

"We shouldn't even be discussing this without the others pres--"

"They don't need to be here! Listen, we'll talk about the change to the team later-- Back to the evil clone!" He stood up, walking on the mousy writer's papers. "It's about time Darkwing Duck finally met his match. This will really bring out his heroic side. It'll--"

Someone loudly cleared their throat. Jim slowly turned around, eyes narrowed. A bull, sweating nervously, raised a hoof. "If I may... offer a suggestion?" he mumbled.

Jim sighed. "Go ahead. I don't know what you could add to possibly improve my idea, but sure--let's hear it."

"I think your concept is rather brilliant--I mean, the part with the evil clone," the bull said, "and I think showing an alternate version of Darkwing Duck if he'd turned to the side of evil would make for great character depth."

Jim snapped his fingers, pointed at the bull. "Y'see! He gets it, folks!"

"Seeing a mirror copy of himself--well, not a true reflection, it's warped and all wrong--would make Darkwing question himself. We'd see a conflicted side of him, where Darkwing comes to terms that he's flawed, and even the greatest of heroes can become the most vile of villains at the flip of a coin."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, what you sa--" He froze. "... Wait. No?"

"Oh, yes," a producer chimed in, "we can really bring out Darkwing's fragile side. His inner darkness."

"No?"

"Hmm. Might be too dark. Remember the Mad Cow incident."

"Think about it, though! The first fight the two Darkwings have, our Darkwing loses, because they're the same, right? Just operating under different beliefs. Maybe there are things about Darkwing that he's still insecure about? Weaknesses he's ignored? Flaws he's yet to address and fix? I can see it now! Darkwing Duck suffering an emotional and mental crisis, doubting his skills and place in life--for the first time he has well and truly failed, and that brings out that inner darkness, and maybe that same darkness would be the darkness that--"

"No?" Jim stamped his feet and shook his fists, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. "No no _no no no_! That's not--This isn't about Darkwing failing or having second thoughts or wallowing in angst!" he shrieked, spittle hitting a nearby writer's face. "The evil clone is just an evil clone and a worthy adversary to Darkwing! It doesn't need to go any deeper than what I wrote! Look at page twenty-five of my script there."

The group hesitantly flipped through their copies.

"Second line--Darkwing Duck admits that the clone might have been one outcome of his life, but he knows who he is, and he knows he'd never fall or submit to some fake fiend with his face! On page twenty-nine, he even defeats the clone and sends him running!" Jim tore at his head feathers. "Darkwing doesn't need to spend an entire season, let alone half an episode, wallowing in self-pity or hiding like a baby. And inner dark-- _inner darkness? Seriously?_ He's _Dark_ wing Duck! He _owns_ the darkness!"

The bull turned to the producer beside him. "Maybe the clone should be called Darkerwing Duck?"

"Darkerwing? Rah--Really?" Jim snapped, about to bend over backwards. "Is that really the best name you could think of! I wrote a list of potential monikers on the front page! Negaduck, Darkwarrior, Double-E-Duck--"

"With all due respect, Mister Star--"

" _Darkwing Duck_!" Jim screeched, punching the table, " _I told you to call me Darkwing Duck_!"

"Darkwing Duck, we'll look over your script and, if we feel there needs to be some changes, we'll run them by you first, of course," the mousy writer said. "Don't worry. We all want to do right by the show, and by Darkwing Duck."

"We love and care for this series just as much as you do. Any criticism we have is purely--"

"What criticism is there?" Jim snarled through grit teeth, eyes spiraling blue and red. " _I_ am Darkwing Duck. _I_ know what's best for _my_ character. For _me_. And that goes for the evil clone by proxy." He hopped off the table, picking his original script and coffee up. "You can make the clone as awful as you want." He put on his sunglasses, marched to the door. "But Darkwing Duck will not-- _absolutely will not_ \--cower beneath or be defeated by some evil simulacra, because Darkwing Duck is, and always will be, a complete, total, and perfect hero."

Jim turned back to his staff. " _And don't name him Darkerwing_!" He left, slamming the door shut. Twice.

The group waited until Jim's angry footfalls faded. 

"... Jim? Play an evil character?" the mousy writer giggled. "Oh, perish the thought!"

"Isn't he doing a great job playing one already?"

The bull laughed. "Maybe we should name the clone Jim Starling."

"He'd be offended but also honored. His head would explode and his giant ego would crush us all."

"For shame, the lot of you," one producer scowled, quieting the laughter, "have you no respect for Jim?" He glared at his embarrassed coworkers. "... The clone's name should be Stim Jarling."

Everyone boisterously cackled.

\----

Although a little shaky and disorganized at first, the Fearsome Five was coming along as a formidable group.

They argued, of course, but Negaduck always had the last word. Sometimes, however, he was willing to agree with one of his lackey's decisions instead. He listened more, opened up more, but not at the risk of getting too close. He didn't want these losers thinking he was their friend. They had a flimsy alliance--help each other, split the money, wash, rinse, repeat. There were no contracts, no strict guidelines.

Don't turn on one another, and especially don't turn on the boss.

The Fearsome Five started out easy, pulling off little crimes here and there that really didn't require more than one or two people. But word was getting out on the street about the team, and soon all those who once tried to challenge Negaduck were going quiet. Darkwing had only fought with them on a couple of these occasions, since they were so low on his radar and handled easily by the police--even if the Fearsome Five always got away. But there'd been no deaths or serious accidents... yet.

After the team really started coming together, Negaduck broke out the first big, dangerous heist: raid Mrs. Howell's printing press and steal the money plates she kept sealed in a vault. One of NP's contacts had made the discovery, and with Camille using her powers to disguise herself as Mrs. Howell and confirm with her colleagues (in quite an awkward way) they were within the wealthy woman's possession.

They spent nights working on and going over the plan. Practicing and training, Negaduck sharply reprimanding any tiny mistake.

Finally, the heist went into action. 

It started out smoothly enough, but once a security guard realized his officer friend pushing in a giant bin of paper was not his officer friend at all, the rest of the Fearsome Five burst out from the bin and attacked. NP and Phantom B worked on keeping the guards at bay while Negaduck, Camille, and Splatter looked for the plates in a sea of locked boxes covering an entire wall.

Camille grew into her giant form, holding Negaduck up so he could break into the boxes. Splatter used the sliding ladder, opening boxes by drawing little holes on them. NP used his muscle to take out half the guards, while Phantom B levitated and threw the rest in a vault, locking it shut. The three still had a lot of boxes to go through, cursing at Camille for not asking which number the plates were in.

The doors NP had barricaded flew open, and purple gas flooded into the room.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night..."

"He'sss here!" Camille yelled, holding Negaduck up to the top row of boxes.

"NP! Phantom! Take care of these clowns!" Negaduck ordered.

As much as Negaduck wanted to watch the ensuing fight, to see just how well his team handled the big boys, he had to keep searching. NP was down, Phantom B wounded--which apparently was something that could happen. Fortunately, Splatter let out a triumphant cry shortly after, waving the plates at Negaduck and Camille. Right before she was caught in Darkwing's grappling rope and yanked down.

"Phantom!" Negaduck snarled.

Phantom B weakly raised their staff. The falling plates suddenly stopped, floating in a black cloud toward Negaduck. "Get 'em," Negaduck commanded, pulling on Camille's hair.

"Yesss, ssssir," Camille snickered, reaching out a long arm and snatching up the plates.

"And while you're at it," Negaduck took the plates, smiling down at Darkwing, "why don't you crush some bugs?"

"Fatally?"

"Just enough to break a couple bones and make 'im cry."

Camille nodded, nearly dislodging her leader. She raised her foot, about to bring it down on Darkwing. Darkwing rolled away, flipping onto his side to shoot a dart in Camille's ankle. 

"Ow ow ow ow! Did you jussst pinch me?" she whined, shaking her leg. "That really huuurrttsss..." Camille trailed off into a tired yawn, eyes lidded.

"Wake up, you dolt!" Negaduck yelled, smacking Camille's cheeks.

Camille yawned again. "Night night, sssssir..." She closed her eyes, fast asleep a second later. Negaduck shrieked as the ginormous mutant fell to the ground. With a huff, Negaduck leaped off her head, grabbing onto the ladder.

"NP! Now!"

NP sprung to his feet, wide grin on his face. "I ain't too bad an actor, either," he laughed, pouncing and tackling Launchpad to the ground.

Darkwing gasped, turning back to his partner.

"Splatter!"

Splatter moved her brush around, swiping at the edges of her ropes just enough to cut through them. They loosened, and she broke free, stood. Splatter threw her paintbrush at Negaduck as hard as she could, just as Darkwing pinned her down again.

"Phantom!"

Phantom melted out from the shadows, levitating the brush over to Negaduck. Launchpad flipped NP over his head, firing his plunger gun at Phantom. Phantom grunted, thrown back into the darkness.

Negaduck caught Splatter's brush, painting a hole in the wall. This was where Camille would be outside, waiting to catch him in her giant form. Didn't matter; it wasn't too high up. He would survive.

Darkwing was crawling up the wall using suction cups on his hands and feet, racing after him. Negaduck momentarily paused, admired the new gadgets.

"One last gift, from all of us!" Negaduck cackled, biting off the pin of a grenade and throwing it at Darkwing. Darkwing flipped aside, clinging desperately to the wall. The grenade exploded on impact, filling the room with red gas.

Negaduck placed Splatter's brush in his belt, tucked the plates safely away in his suit, and jumped out the hole. He grunted, landing in the bushes. Aside from a few scratches and a tear in his cape, Negaduck was in one piece. He ran for the getaway vehicle, just as cop cars came racing down the street.

Negaduck cursed. He thought the plan was air tight, but once more, Darkwing Duck had brought in his stupid toys. It had nothing to do with the fact he was becoming a pretty good crime fighter. Either way, there was always the risk of someone getting caught--even if that was four out of five of them. NP was the only one who knew Negaduck's base, but as thick-headed as that nitwit was, he was fiercely loyal to his boss.

Negaduck didn't care if his team was apprehended and fell apart. All supervillains for themselves. He could just make another team. He climbed into the car, and just before he could put the key in the ignition, titan Camille crashed through the wall, carrying Splatter in one hand and NP in the other. The gas must have woken her up. She looked down at Negaduck in the car, for a moment confused and hurt. Darkwing jumped on top of her head, blinding her with his gas gun.

Negaduck snarled, switching the engine on and hitting the accelerator. He drove over to Camille, knocking into a police car and breaking a headlight. Negaduck hurriedly painted a giant hole in the ceiling, pulling up just as Camille accidentally dropped NP and Splatter. NP fell into the back seat; he hit his head on the side of the roof, instantly knocked out. Splatter curled up into a ball, landing right on top of him, instantly waking him back up.

Negaduck leaned out the window, firing gas at the cops. They only had a couple seconds. Just as Negaduck was about to drive off, Camille shrunk into the size of an infant, hissing frantically as she fell. Splatter stood up through the roof, catching the baby duck-lizard in her hands.

"Floor it!" Splatter cried.

"I make the orders here, remember!" Negaduck snapped, and hit the accelerator. He crashed into two cars, and ran over something that made the entire vehicle jump. "Better've been a body, I swear to--" Negaduck screamed as Phantom B materialized in the passenger seat. He punched the wizard in their concealed face, smashing their head against the window. Phantom B rumbled painfully and melted into an inky puddle.

NP pushed Splatter and Camille aside, leaning over the front seat. "Y'got the plates, Negs?" he asked, excited and unable to open both of his black, swollen eyes.

Negaduck grinned. He held up the plates, his three conscious teammates whooping and hollering victoriously. Although no more than a head sticking out of a pool of darkness, Phantom B managed to very, very feebly tap their staff against the dashboard.

\---

## PART 5

##  \---

With more practice, the Fearsome Five would get better. But Negaduck spent nearly a half hour lecturing and screaming at them for their failures and slip-ups until his head ached too hard for him to move.

"It's those fuckin' toys of his," Negaduck growled, throwing his hat and cape on the floor. "If we had some of those gadgets, we'd be even stronger." He nearly ripped the buttons off his coat as he opened it, shrugging it off. "I can only go so far with my damn chainsaw..."

Negaduck winced, grabbing at his head. He fell against a recliner, supporting himself.

"Hey, now," NP cooed, "yer smarter an' stronger than Dipwing. I mean, he seems lots younger than you, an' yer balding, wrinkles getting deeper on yer forehead--"

"How is this helping?" Negaduck yelled.

"I mean t'say, there ain't been much new an' excitin' stuff comin' through my channels," NP explained. He poked Negaduck's shoulder with a glass of water. "I'd get you some shit like his, but... there just ain't any. I think they're pieces he built or somethin'."

Negaduck opened his eyes, the lights suddenly too bright. He took the water and pills, chugged everything down. "Nooo," he gasped sarcastically, throwing the glass at the wall. "He's got someone backing him up. Giving him all these special weapons."

"Y'want me to find out who?" NP offered. "I'll have my guys on the streets do some diggin'."

"I doubt your lackeys will be of much help, but fine. Whatever. Tell 'em to find out who's supporting Dipwing or I'll visit them in their sleep and saw off their hands or something," Negaduck spat. He moved cautiously, slowly toward the bed, cradling his head.

NP sat down beside him, plucking off the mallard's mask. "Don't worry about it, Negs," he said, placing a cool ice pack on Negaduck's forehead, "we'll figure somethin' out."

\----

Two and a half weeks had passed. Still no information about Darkwing Duck's pimp. The group had yet to make stable copies with the money plates, each bill either turning blue or shriveling up. Negaduck was close to just killing the Fearsome Four and selling their organs for cash instead. Did Phantom B even have any organs? Negaduck was willing to find out.

And although Negaduck could have just got his drugs off his usual supplier, he needed to vent out his frustration. He drove to the other side of town to a mom and pop small grocery store and pharmacy. The place was empty; there was a cashier, scrolling through his phone, and a pharmacist in the back, sorting through prescriptions.

Negaduck covertly flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED before shutting the door. He walked over to a set of folding chairs, picking up the closest one. "Excuse me, sir," he said, carrying the chair over to the cashier. 

The cashier looked up from his phone, blinking tiredly. 

"I'd like to return this item," Negaduck said as he brought the chair down on the cashier's head. He hit the ground with a moan. "Y'see, there's a big dent in it."

The pharmacist gasped, reaching for the phone. "Not in the mood!" Negaduck barked, throwing the chair. It hit the desk, the pharmacist recoiling. As he strolled over to the frightened mole, a store employee came barreling down the snack aisle, screaming with his fists raised.

Negaduck kicked the kid between the legs; punched him in the chin when he doubled over. The kid collapsed onto a rack of chips, bags exploding under his weight. The rack and employee fell to the ground. Negaduck scooped up an open bag, casually munched on a chip. He jumped up on the counter, staring placidly at the whimpering pharmacist on the ground.

Negaduck ate a few more chips before dumping the rest out on the mole. He casually plopped on top of the pharmacist, straddling his torso, pinning his arms down with his knees. Negaduck pulled the empty plastic bag over his head, held it there as the pharmacist struggled and screamed.

Once the mole stopped squirming, Negaduck climbed off of him and went through the rows of pill boxes and bottles. He pocketed as many painkillers as possible, until his coat was practically stuffed and bloated. Negaduck walked over the pharmacist to the swinging door, leaving the store just as aloof as he came.

Negaduck returned a second later, taking a magazine with Darkwing Duck on the cover, a six pack of beer, and a chocolate bar.

Negaduck exhaled, air turning into little white clouds. It was getting colder and colder, winter steadily approaching. He waddled back to his car--only to find it flanked by strange men in yellow uniforms and weird white helmets.

Negaduck stopped, eyes wide, brows furrowed. He could see another car--a limousine--toward the back of the open alley. "Only one at a time," he scoffed, getting into battle stance. "I'm too pissy tonight to kill you all at once."

"Now, now, now. We ain't here lookin' for a fight, Mister Negaduck."

Negaduck tensed as the limousine's back door opened. A shadowy form emerged; tall, broad shoulders, obviously a rooster given the silhouette of his big comb. "We just wanna talk, is all," he chuckled.

The accent--he wasn't from around here. "Yeah? Well, I ain't one for talkin'," Negaduck spat.

"Mister Neg--ya mind if I just call ya Negaduck? Thanks-- I represent an organization who is very impressed with your work, Negaduck," the rooster explained. Light caught something on his face, showing a glimpse of steel. "We've been watchin' you and your team for a while now. And we'd be very interested in striking up a partnership."

"Tell you what," Negaduck sighed, "you guys back off by the count of ten, and I won't rain fire and brimstone on your asses."

"Please, Negaduck, at least listen to our proposal. For just a small favor, my organization is willing to help you with anything you need. Weapons, alibis, manpower, classier getaway vehicles..."

Negaduck's eyes widened at the mention of weapons. "I got enough guns and blades to start up an army," he grunted. "I don't need your help."

"Here."

Negaduck jumped as a glove hit the ground at his feet.

"Try that on for size."

Negaduck glowered. "You think I'm that stu--"

"We call that little doozy the Boxcutter. Inside there's a button. Squeeze it once, stinger-like blades protract from the knuckles. Squeeze it twice, the glove inflates; while light on your hand, it packs enough force to knock some unfortunate mook's head right off. Squeeze it three times, and it goes back to just a seemingly regular, harmless fancy piece of fashion."

"You know what I hate? Solicitors. Especially ones who follow me around."

"If you don't wanna give it a try," the rooster said smoothly, "one of my men here will demonstrate instead." He snapped his fingers, and the thug closest to the glove picked it up and slid it on. Negaduck reached back to grab his chainsaw.

The thug squeezed his fist, and out popped sharp, glinting blades from the knuckles. He squeezed his fist again, and the glove grew twice its size. The thug waved his hand easily, loose and comfortable, then turned and punched a hole in the brick wall.

Negaduck gaped. "You-- How--"

"And there's more where that came from. All you need to do is agree to help my organization, and in turn, we'll help you. You scratch our backs, we scratch yours, and all that jazz."

"Darkwing Duck also has weapons like those," Negaduck stated. "How do I know you're not working with him, too?"

The rooster laughed. "Please. Darkwing Duck hardly represents the image and philosophies of my company. No, rather, he's as much a thorn in our side as he is yours. And we can give you tools that far overpower his. But we're gonna need you to do us a favor first. To see if you're willin' to work alongside us."

"What if I don't wanna do this favor?" Negaduck snapped.

"The choice is yours. You ain't gotta do it. But, for just hearin' us out..." The rooster snapped his fingers again. A much larger minion walked over, opening and placing a briefcase in front of Negaduck.

Negaduck nearly choked on his tongue at the rows of bound dollar bills inside.

"That's five thousand now, and five thousand more when you complete the job. As a bonus, we'll throw in the Boxcutter, too."

Negaduck hesitantly pulled the briefcase over. He checked it for any hidden gadgets or explosives. Flipped through the money, looking for any signs of counterfeiting.

"At the bottom of the briefcase is a file containing all the information regarding the job. Give it a read over. We'll wait exactly three days. And if you choose not to do the favor, well... I guess you just weren't the perfect fit after all."

Negaduck guffawed. "I don't need to 'fit in' anywhere," he said. "And if you're thinkin' of coming after me, I've got my own team that'll tear your weasels here apart."

"Oh, Negaduck, pal, if you could only see the bigger picture. And you can--one day, if you help us out here. We're lookin' forward to workin' with you." The rooster climbed back into the limousine. "And don't worry. If you turn us down, for whatever reason, we won't sic our dogs on you. It'd just be a waste of time and manpower on somethin' so trivial."

Negaduck's blood boiled. "What the Hell did you just--"

"Tata, Negaduck. We'll keep in touch."

A minion shut the limo door. It drove off, the rest of the uniformed ducks fitting inside a rather small, cramped car and following.

\----

"The mob, huh? Well, there's two families here in St. Canard... Been kinda quiet for the Bulba mafia, considerin' Darkwing threw their leader into the super-pokey. But I don't recall seein' no roosters in the family. I dunno much about Ivory Siegull's group, so maybe they gotta rooster. I can ask the sweepers to look around."

Negaduck sat at the table, hands bridged, staring intensely at the open file on top of the neat rows of money. He'd read through everything at least ten times over. Negaduck spread the papers out, removing a single photo. A pair of ducks, one male in a fancy suit with shades, the other a female in a red dress and hat, also wearing a pair of sunglasses. They looked pensively over the busy street, standing close together and keeping to the crowds.

"So, you gonna take the job?" NP pulled a chair up beside Negaduck, sat on it backwards. He looked down at the photograph in Negaduck's hands and whistled. "What a dame!"

Negaduck shut the briefcase on the papers, scowling. "I'm nobody's errand bird," he spat, "and if they're thinkin' of makin' me some patsy, they got another thing comin'."

"Then don't take the job? But, I gotta say, that glove? Never seen anythin' like that on the market. These guys could be the real deal. They might give us that edge over Darkwad."

Negaduck snorted, rapping his fingers on the table. "This is more than a bank robbery. The team's still too disorganized to pull off something like this. And I won't do this alone--not without a fall guy."

NP raised his hands. "Not it."

"I'd sooner throw away one of those freaks than give you up," Negaduck replied. NP smiled softly. "If only because you're the most valuable of the Fearsome Five, aside from myself," Negaduck quickly added, turning his head away. "If you weren't bringin' in the weapons, I'd let you drown with the rest of the rats."

"Awww." NP swooned, batting his eyelashes. "Ain't you the sweetest, boss." He reached for Negaduck's cheek. "Lemme just give you a li'l pinch--"

Negaduck snarled, slapping NP's hand away. It'd become much easier to tell when Negaduck was simply annoyed but not really bothered, and when he was actually furious and defensive. Now was one of those latter times. NP sat back, shocked like a scolded child, before spotting the burn mark on Negaduck's bill.

"Does that thing still hurt?" NP asked. It was a risk, poking this angry little porcupine, but he was curious and not very bright.

Negaduck bristled. "No. It doesn't." He glared at his teammate. "I just don't like being _patronized_ , especially by an underling."

"We're friends now, Negs. Friends with, like, a ton-a benefits. When am I gonna get a promotion from co-lleague to co-boss?"

Negaduck laughed sharply, genuinely amused in his own twisted way. "Try next Ice Age."

NP frowned, fingers turning to fists. "Jus' remember--if it weren't for me, you'd be nothin'. I provide the weapons and the muscle. I give you discounts. I even let you use some of my stock fer free. So, you know." He leaned forward, towering over the smaller duck. "Maybe you could jus' show a little more appreciation, yanno? Toss me a friggin' bone every once in-a while, yeah?"

Negaduck opened his mouth, postured as if he were going to pounce on NP and rip his throat out, but then he shut his bill, folded his arms, and looked away. NP instantly thought of a sulking kid, and wasn't so upset anymore. "You get your fair share of the spoils," Negaduck grumbled, "don't act like you're some poor, neglected duckling. ... Asshole."

NP snickered. "If anyone here's the duckling," he teased, and fuck it, he tugged on one of Negaduck's head feathers, "it's you, ya spoiled bra--"

"I'm going to rip your throat out!"

\----

One day had passed. Negaduck had two more to decide. And while he liked to think he wasn't afraid of anyone, something about that pompous rooster rubbed him the wrong way. There wasn't much proof outside the few bodyguards and one nifty boxing glove, but Negaduck just knew he was powerful. And that power wasn't providing Darkwing Duck with any of its shares.

It wasn't as if Negaduck couldn't pull off the job. He wasn't a coward; he could take risks if he felt he could still make it out alive. He had a team, too. A team that was still finding its footing, but competent to the point where Negaduck could at least do the job and get out, using the others as distractions if need be. They all knew, Negaduck was sure, he wouldn't hesitate to throw them under the bus if it meant saving his feathery hide. And he knew they would do the same. No turning on each other, but... Well, we're evil, who knows.

The Fearsome Four in the show always had some sort of familial camaraderie. Sure, they'd backstab one another every now and then, but they seemed happy working together. The problem was they had no one true leader, and Darkwing Duck was always able to expose this lack of coordination and communication. The four were navigating blindly, dependent on their "friendship" and powers and hubris to--

Negaduck scowled, rolling face down in the tub of water, angry bubbles popping at the surface.

Then again... Negaduck had observed his team when they thought he wasn't looking, or didn't know he was even in the room. Phantom B was working with Splatter on her special paint, combining science with magic. With this extra ingredient, she was able to improve her skills and produce more and more objects. Camille was shy around the others at first, but she was slowly integrating herself into the team, talking more, interacting more. NP was a social butterfly, and got along well with everyone. Splatter and Camille were both geeks in their own fields, and that brought them closer.

In the beginning, the group rarely socialized outside work. They had their own lives, their own crimes to commit. Now, however, Negaduck saw them spending time with each other beyond work hours. Camille brought Splatter to her apartment so they could play chemists and bio-engineers. Phantom B, the most antisocial of the Five, once spent an afternoon having pizza with NP. They never said a word, just letting NP ramble on and on, but they didn't seem bothered, or eager to leave. Though who knew what the Hell the wizard was thinking.

Maybe the Fearsome Five wasn't so much disorganized and lacking in communication and trust as they were left to their own devices with a boss who made it plainly known he had no desire to be friends or help them unless it benefited the Five in some way. Or put them at risk. Negaduck didn't _need_ to get any closer--

\--nor did Jim Starling need to get any closer to his coworkers. Outside the show, the Fearsome Four had become great friends, and often hung out together. Although they initially tried bringing Jim into the fold, Jim refused every invitation, every conversation that wasn't necessary, every opinion or feedback or input they had concerning his acting and how maybe, possibly, Darkwing Duck could do this instead of that, and Jim would reply then, and tell them they weren't playing Darkwing Duck, were they? And he knew they went to the staff behind his back, hoping their ideas and suggestions would finally be heard. Their complaints about Jim's controlling behavior making everyone uneasy on set. Then they'd be laughing and talking about last night's party as they got their make-up done, all the while Jim sitting at his own make-up station across the set, with his own hand-picked make-up artists, seething over the fact these morons thought they could just get away going behind his back, and the only reason they were still on the show was the producers and the positive feedback from fans who'd grown to love the villains as much as the actually morally sound superhero who protected people like them from scum like--

After the Vicodin kicked in, Negaduck called a meeting. Soon after, the Fearsome Five were sitting together in the same abandoned factory where they first became a team.

Negaduck was quick, briefing the four on the rooster, the job, the promised treasures that would follow. Negaduck knew one of them would say they should do the favor because even if everything fell through, the rooster did give them five thousand dollars. You know, like a sentimental idiot. But no one suggested that, torn between the possibility of making the big bucks and getting all the new goodies, and the possibility of this being a set up that wound them all in jail, or worse.

"It wouldn't be any fun if there wasn't just a bit of chaos," Negaduck said. "Any of you got information you'd like to share with the class? Maybe about our shadowy future benefactors?"

Camille chewed her tongue nervously. "You ssssaid there were ducksss in yellow sssuitsss and white helmetsss, right?" she asked. Negaduck didn't answer; had she been listening, she'd know. Camille gulped down the lump in her throat. "Well... I may have ssseen thossse people before."

"And?"

"I had broken into one of the biology labsss at the Universssity of Ssscience and Technology and Ssscience-Technology to 'borrow' sssome ssssupplies. It wasss late. I figured no one would ssssee me, ssso I just sssnuck in without a disssguissse. Asss I was gathering equipment, I overheard talking in the nexxxt room." She paused, as if expecting a question. 

Negaduck casually flicked his lighter on, hit it with hairspray; NP used the powerful burst of flame to light his cigarette.

"... Okay, sssso I went to ssspy, and I sssaw one of the professsorsss talking with three people. Two of them wore thossse outfits, but the third wassss a pretty lady in a fur coat. She wasss exxxchanging packagesss with the professssor."

Negaduck sat forward, digging through the file. "Was it her?" He held up the photo of the two fancy ducks, pointing at the woman.

"Yesss!" Camille exclaimed. "That wassss her!"

"So she was an employee with the organization at some point," Splatter mumbled, stroking her chin. "Also, hey, I have a quick question."

"What?"

Splatter pointed to the male duck in the photo. "Uhh... NP, are you like a triplet or something? I mean, look at this smug duck. Then look at you. Then look at Launchpad. Don't you find this all a bit... uncanny valley and unsettling?"

NP laughed. "Nah, not really. My dad was a horn dog. He spread his birdseed everywhere he could, so I probably got about fi--"

Negaduck kicked NP under the table, shutting him up.

"Doesn't matter who she was and who she worked for. We only need to know the important details and bits of her history, and how it relates to the 'case,'" Negaduck insisted. "And while I don't think you're all completely ready... We'll be taking the job."

"By the looks of these bourgeoisie preps," Splatter huffed, "they must have a collection of fine art. Or at least something valuable they keep tucked away to rot for their vanity." She raised a finger. "I'm in."

Phantom B tapped their staff.

"And if they're rich, imagine all the loot we'll find!" NP exclaimed. He raised a finger, too. "I'm in, of course."

Everyone's gaze turned to Camille. She worried her turtleneck in her hands, chewing her bottom bill. "... I-It'sss not sssomething I've done before. I'm only usssed to just ssstealing. But, if we're getting paid..."

"I don't see anything in the file stating we can't take anything with us," Splatter said. "I call any and all art pieces. This includes but is not limited to paintings, photographs, old records, statues, ceramics, glass art, and miscellaneous figurines."

"Yanno, I'm feelin' like one of those old timey black an' white cartoon villains," NP snickered, wringing his hands together. "I'm goin' right for the jewels, heh heh."

"'Cartoon'? Have you not seen our reality?" Splatter turned in her seat. "We're already there." It was like she was speaking to someone across the room--but there was no one there.

Negaduck, Camille, and NP exchanged baffled looks. Phantom B didn't seem surprised. The wizard tapped their staff six times. 

"Right," Negaduck snorted, "you're the freak. You can take those."

Splatter elbowed Camille in the side. "You in, Cammy?"

Cammy? So they'd given each other nicknames. Well, whatever. Negaduck only called NP by his nickname, so who cared.

"It would be niccce to have a sssteady flow of income, asss well asss a sssupplier for new weaponsss, but... I'm not ssso sssure we should--"

"If you love Mister Cocky Moneybags and his merry band of Oompa Loompas so much," Negaduck barked, slamming his fists on the table, "why don't you quit the team and marry them?"

Everyone stiffened, eyes wide.

Negaduck stood up, crumpling the papers in his fists. "If any of you feels you need to second question my leadership," he said, and flipped the table, throwing everyone off their seats. The table landed on top of Phantom B, who immediately turned into a mushy puddle of ink. Negaduck pointed at the door. "There's the door! Make sure it slaps your ungrateful asses a few times on your way out!"

"No, I don't wanna leave!" Camille cried, raising her hands. "I'm sssorry for--"

"When I ask for your opinions or decisions on a matter relating to _my_ group, that's just my funny way of telling you to agree with me or piss off," Negaduck snarled, storming up to the confused and frightened mutant. "You either say yes and play along, or you say no and get out before I kick you out myself! But my foot will be my chainsaw when I do it!" He leaned over Camille, following her down as she shrunk smaller and smaller. "Sssso, 'Cammy,' do I make myssself clear?" he spat, sticking out his tongue.

Camille was the size of a gecko. "Cryssstal," she peeped.

"Sssensssational," Negaduck said, feigning relief. Camille bowed before his cape could knock her down. He turned to the rest of his group, Phantom B just a head peering out from under the table. "Now! I assume there are no more complaints? No more concerns? No more questioning my orders?"

NP and Splatter shook their heads. Phantom B tapped their head against the table twice.

"Wonderful! Now let's get back to planning, you ingrates!"

\----

“So, I wasn’t searchin’ through your stuff or nuttin’, but I saw this…”

Negaduck looked up from his blueprints, going over their new job. Once he saw the silver trophy in NP’s hand, he flew from his chair and over to the larger bird, snatching up the award. “Like Hell you weren’t goin’ through my stuff!” he snarled.

“I was jus’ goin’ through our stockpile of tear bombs when I found it. Musta fallen outta your suitcase,” NP explained. He tilted his head, curious and not the least bit aware of the dangerous waters he was treading. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. “I thought you destroyed all yer trophies. Why’d ya keep this one?”

“I have my reason,” Negaduck grumbled, holding the award close to his chest. “And it's nothin’ you need know about!” He shoved past NP, down into the basement. Negaduck had acquired a medium sized safe over time; he crouched down, constantly checking to see if NP was watching him put in the combination. There wasn't much inside but a pile of emergency money, expensive items he could pawn off (also in case of dire situations), and a knife with blood crusted on its rusty blade. He placed the trophy inside, slammed the door shut, spun the wheel, and returned upstairs.

"Y'know, there's somethin' I've been meanin' t'ask ya," NP mused, sitting and sinking into the sofa, "ever since I found out who ya were."

"Jim Starling is no longer taking calls," Negaduck said, burying his face back in paperwork, "Jim Starling's phone number is no longer in service, you nosy dick."

"Eh, well, you could answer it, too."

"I'm busy."

"Later then."

"Later never."

NP stared at the ceiling, tapping his boot lightly on the stained carpet. There was a clown donkey in all the ceiling popcorn. After one solid minute, he said, "So, I watched this documentary, okay."

Negaduck scrubbed his hands down his face and beak.

"It was about Darkwing Duck. Not the guy, but the show. The fake Darkwing."

Negaduck reflexively twitched at that last comment.

"Ji--Not you were talkin' about all the cool things not you learned and shit to better emulate your role. Everyone said really nice things about you, too. All the other actors and writers and directors and key grips, whatever those are. ... And by you, I mean not you."

Negaduck snorted bitterly. "Half those things are lies and slander," he said. "All those nice, kind, tender compliments and pretty honeyed words? Absolute garbage. They only said that shit so as not to upset the producers or cause drama or even get their asses fired." He chortled. "Not that I care. Everything great I said about them was a lie, too."

"Yeah, but you--Jim--pre-Negaduck--you didn't seem too..." NP thought, squinting at the clown donkey and rolling a hand. "Totally fuckin' evil. Yeah."

Negaduck looked back at NP with a cocked brow and defensive stiffness in his shoulders. "Yeah? So what?"

"I know evil. I've been bad to the bone since I hatched from the egg. Not kiddin'. Soon as I hatched, I bit off my mom's tail feathers. I'm not too evil, I think, I just kinda prefer destruction and chaos over, y'know, bein' good. I got that feelin' from you when we first met, an' yer still feelin' like that now, but that doc... I know I'm a couple slices of pizza short a pie, but even I know somethin' about The Guy That Isn't You wasn't anything like... Not you."

"Get to the point."

NP shrugged. "Okay. What made you so evil?"

Negaduck didn't expect that question.

"I mean," NP continued, "yeah, I get not you was a prick an' super vain an' a pain in the dick to work with. Nothing like now, though, ooooh no. An' I know you went loony toons when you were tryin' to off not-Darkwing-at-the-time-but-Darkwing-now. But how do ya go from someone who was just a stuck up snob to... Well, you."

Negaduck was quiet. He stared at NP, and his gaze wasn't nearly as unsettling. If NP knew any better, he'd realize he'd pierced through Negaduck's defenses and actually struck a cord. And not one that'd get him sawed in half.

Negaduck looked back at his pencil, tapping the point against the paper. He supposed it might have something to do with a complete mental breakdown, midlife crisis, unresolved health issues, and a bunch of heavy props falling on his head, but... For as long as Negaduck could remember, Jim Starling only cared about himself. He trampled on so many feet, destroyed so many relationships, forced everybody to cater to him, the main star.

Somewhere, though, and it was a little fuzzy, and it hurt Negaduck's head as he strained to pull it from the darkness, there was a time where he was... different, he supposed. This particular memory was the only one he could find, be it from some sort of trauma induced memory loss or the walls he'd stubbornly built up over time.

Neg--Jim--was at one of his first fan signings. The show did take a little time to perfect itself before season two came around and made it a must-see TV hit. Back when season one was playing a little looser and hadn't yet found its strong points, there weren't as many fans, but they would become the most dedicated ones in the future.

The producers and Jim's agent managed to book a signing at the Mall of St. Canard, just in a corner at the very back of the food court. Although there weren't as many people like the droves that would come in a few more months, it did take a little while for some fans to get their autograph even in short lines.

Jim had... engaged with a few of them. Really talked to them about how happy and excited he was, how much he loved Darkwing and playing Darkwing. He loved listening to all the joy he brought to the fans--half of which were children--and how they wanted to grow up to be the next Darkwing, they already bought their Darkwing Duck costumes for Halloween, they played Darkwing Duck vs the Thieving Three (which would later turn into the Fearsome Four next season) with their friends. A handful of kids showed up in their makeshift Darkwing outfits, too.

Negaduck told himself it hadn't been a sentimental thing. He just liked people boosting his ego. But the Jim Starling at that point in time would have disagreed.

There was one duckling, no more than six or so. He came with his mothers, wearing a spray painted wide brim hat too small for his big round head, a purple silk tie with holes cut in it for the mask, a cape that was really just a baby blanket, and Darkwing Duck t-shirt. The child was starstruck meeting his hero, and even started tearing up, but Jim gestured the kid around the table to sit on his knee. 

The kid obeyed, but it did make him cry--happy tears, and before Jim could ask his name, the child, in between overwhelmed sobs, told him Darkwing Duck helped him be brave and fight against the bullies, how to be nicer and kinder to others himself, how to be more wary of strangers, how to help the community in little ways even a kid like him could do, and, most importantly, how to accept his personal differences as something not to be ashamed of but to celebrate.

Negaduck remembered the mothers tearing up. Had Jim teared up, too? It got a little fuzzy at this part. But he did remember feeling so proud--his ego, his ego, nothing more--and hugging the child, telling him how proud he was of him--his ego, not the child's, his ego, nothing more--and how much Darkwing Duck appreciated all the good he's done. He signed a photo of Darkwing Duck for him as well as his t-shirt.

LET'S KEEP FIGHTING FOR GOOD AND MAKE THE WORLD A LESS DANGEROUS PLACE. - DARKWING DUCK (AKA JIM STARLING, CIVILIAN NAME)

Then the fame got to his head, they'd say, but it wasn't just the fame. Jim Starling _was_ Darkwing Duck. He was everyone's hero. He was perfect and flawless and everyone loved him and those who hated him were bad, awful, terrible people who hurt and stole from others. People that Darkwing Duck squashed--but with mercy, given the show's rating.

Darkwing Duck could do no wrong. Darkwing Duck was an idol, beloved, a star that would never die and collapse in on itself.

But... Jim Starling was a nobody. He wasn't the one the people wanted and adored. He wasn't the one who could fight crime, could take down mega-villains, who could solve even the most difficult of cases. Jim Starling was just a mask Darkwing Duck wore when he was out of costume. Just an alias with enough of a backstory to make him convincing as your average, everyday boring civilian who ran and cried from danger instead of facing it head on.

Jim Starling was nothing but a shadow lost in the darkness where Darkwing Duck shone the brightest. He clung to that light because he was nothing, and without that light he'd be alone in this void and as long as Darkwing Duck was there, Jim could count on him to survive, if only because he feared death despite his meager, piddling existence.

... Who was he talking about? There was a kid. Someone was crying. The memory slipped from his hands like Darkwing Duck did when he walked away from him so many years ago. The colors blurred into a muted white that hissed like static and Negaduck growled, his temples pounding. He fished a bottle from his pocket.

"Did ya... brain short circuit there, Negs?" NP teased, although he was a little concerned.

Negaduck knocked back a few pills. "What?" he scowled.

"Well, I was jus' askin' if you were jus' as evil as you was then as you are now."

Negaduck squinted. He... Right, right. He remembered now. "Does it matter anymore?" he grumbled. "The past is dead. And when I found the old me, I saw just how much he'd been suffering and shriveling away, this whimpering, diseased little bastard. So I put the damn thing out of its misery. And I realized..." A grin slowly split Negaduck's face. "... I kinda liked killin' that sad sack."

NP practically purred. "Ain't nothin' more powerful than shootin' out someone's lightbulb," he confessed.

Negaduck chuckled, thinking about that shadow that clung desperately to Darkwing to survive suddenly rising up, huge and imposing, and swallowing the masked mallard whole, draining him of all that beautiful light and warmth and energy and colors, converting them to something twisted and opposite.

"It's always better to be feared than loved," Negaduck decided, crushing the tip of the pencil. And it was so much more fun to take a life than to give one, especially with all those... What was his name? It didn't matter. Shadows of a boring existence. Darkwing Duck had the darkness, but Negaduck could have the light. He just had to blow everything up in order to get it nice and bright.

Jim Starling was dead, that was that.

\----

As Negaduck would come to find, Jim Starling was also a ghost.

\---

## PART 6

##  \---

The Fearsome Five had prepared for everything, down to the worst case scenario.

It went down to the worst case scenario.

They expected security detail, a couple bodyguards watching over the ex-spies. Although the file suggested the two were still unaware of their crimes against "the organization," they seemed to be catching on.

So much so, that when Negaduck and his fellow fiends invaded the house, not only were there bodyguards, but a couple police officers and Darkwing Duck with his brainless sidekick. It was currently eight to five; Negaduck was a gambling man, and he had a pretty good hand, too. Bruno had joined the fray, while Feathers was nowhere to be seen. There was a moment where NP, Launchpad, and Bruno stood eyeing each other like they'd just seen a ghost before throwing down.

Splatter handled the two bodyguards, luring one into a hole she painted in the ground and using a whip made of paint and ink to fight the second. Phantom B had their hands tied with the police officers. Although Darkwing was gunning after Negaduck, Camille suddenly grew three times her size into a muscular titan on way too many steroids and punched him through a glass wall.

Negaduck could hear sirens approaching. More back-up. Guess these treacherous schmucks turned themselves over to the police and Darkwing for protection. Disgusting cowards. But Negaduck could get a headache over his contempt of everyone in the world later. He made his way up the stairs, shooting gas at a pursuing officer. Negaduck immediately went for the fourth door; Boxcutter on hand, he inflated the glove to easily punch the door open.

Feathers gasped, standing in front of the split bookshelves leading outside. Before she could take off down the stairs, Negaduck threw a bolas, snaring up her ankles. As she struggled to untie the rope, the mallard shoved the door back into place, using a recliner to keep others out. Not for very long, but just long enough.

Feathers had escaped the ropes. "You think I'll go down so easily?" she snapped. "I've broken many little boys like you in the past." With a smile, she yanked a prized, historical shield off the wall and ran at Negaduck.

While Negaduck did expect Feathers to put up a fight, he didn't think she'd be nearly as tough and determined. In fact, she'd disarmed him of most of his weapons in the first five minutes of the battle. Negaduck squeaked as she kicked him in the head, sending him flying back and into the fireplace.

"I have worked for FOWL half of my life, duckling," Feathers sneered, smoothing down her silk dress, "you are _nothing_."

Negaduck coughed, emerging from the ashes and soot. "FOWL? Never heard of ya."

Feathers picked up a vase, held it over her head--

"Dumpster fire!"

Feathers was distracted by the strange voice and sudden pounding at the door. She recuperated fast, however--just not fast enough. Negaduck recognized her skills, but she was younger--he'd been doing this much, much longer. Lunging forward, Negaduck used his last weapon, thrust his gloved hand right in Feathers's stomach.

Feathers coughed, blood trickling from her beak. She was frozen in place, vase still held above her head. She looked down at Negaduck, at the spikes embedded in her belly, turning the glittery silver fabric of her dress a dark red.

Feathers spat out more blood. Negaduck jerked aside, the vase crashing into pieces beside him. He yanked back his fist; the bloodied spikes disappeared, the glove inflated, and the second blow to Feathers's chest sent her flying across the room, hitting the wall hard enough to leave a dent. With a groan, she fell face down on the king sized plush bed, absolutely still.

NP kicked the door and recliner aside. "Did y--whoa!" He glanced around the room, devastated from the short albeit brutal fight. "Thought things were bad down there, but-- It's code dumpster fire, Negs! There's too many cops, and Darkwing knocked out Splatter and captured Phantom!"

"Did you get any of their weapons?"

"No!"

Negaduck nodded at the bazooka in NP's hands. "This still got ammo?"

"Not much."

"Negaduck! Surrender!"

The two glanced back at the door. Darkwing and his police lackeys were running up the stairs. "Take this," Negaduck ordered, shoving Feathers's antique shield in his hands. "Hold 'em off for a couple minutes, then take the stairs to the getaway car." He pointed at the open tunnel between the bookshelves.

NP nodded. "Gotcha!" He turned to leave, stopped. "But what if I get..."

"Now's not the time!" Negaduck yelled, picking up his chainsaw and pocket knife. "Go!"

NP hesitated another half second before barrelling out into the hall, right as Darkwing reached the room.

Negaduck ran over to the bed, one of Feathers's arms hanging over the side. He took her hand, placed the pocket knife to her pinkie finger--

Negaduck whipped his head back, glove spikes protracted. There was a noise coming from the closet by the bed. Something had fallen, and then a very distant... whimper? Despite himself, Negaduck left Feathers to investigate. He couldn't afford to be stealthy; both chainsaw and fist at the ready, he threw open the door, quickly moving behind it to avoid any attack.

A scream, and Negaduck jumped into action, about to thrust his chainsaw into the...

... little girl's...

... face?

Negaduck blinked. Sitting among the racks of expensive shoes was a duckling. Eight, maybe younger. She wore a pretty pink dress with a nauseating amount of ribbons, auburn curly pigtails tied up in bows. The girl had huddled back against the closet, hiding her face in her tiny, shivering hands.

When nothing happened, the girl spread two fingers, looking at Negaduck staring down at her, dumbfounded. The girl stood up suddenly, her big blue eyes watering. "Are you here to rescue me, sir?" she whimpered.

Negaduck slowly tilted his head. "Wha?" he grunted.

The file didn't mention any kid. And if she thought he was here to rescue her...

"Please help me!" the girl cried, rushing over and hugging Negaduck around the waist. He tensed up, face contorted into a horrified expression. "Please take me home! That mean lady and the meaner man are--"

"Aw, shit yeah, Phantom!"

That was NP's voice. So Phantom B was helping him. Good.

As for Negaduck's little problem...

"What's all that noise?" the girl asked, clinging, afraid, to the masked mallard.

"Uhhh..." Shit. Was he suppose to kill the kid, too? Was she a hostage who belonged to someone at the rooster's organization? They didn't mention a rescue in their fucking--

Darkwing burst into the room, cape flying in the air. "No more running, Negaduck!" he roared, pointing another one of his new guns at his arch-nemesis. "Come quietly, or--" Darkwing's eyes bulged from his skull the moment he saw the little girl. She stared between the two, bill gaping, rubbing her eyes.

"Twins! Nifty!"

Something about Darkwing's face was unsettling. As if Negaduck had just sawed his heart in half. Negaduck wished he could admire such a heartbreaking face, but--

"You've sunk to so many levels, Negaduck, but this is one of the worst," Darkwing growled.

"A wha? I did--hold--wha?" Negaduck was about to rip his cheeks feathers out, he was so confused. But then the girl started walking away from him, as if she now realized who the good guy was in this room-- Negaduck elbowed her in the back of the head; he didn't intend to knock her out, but she fell down, unconscious.

" _Negaduck_!" Darkwing snarled. He went to fire his gun, but Negaduck grabbed the slumbering girl by her hair, tucking her under his arm. 

"Nuh uh uh, Dipwing!" Negaduck jeered, holding his chainsaw close to the duckling's head. "If you hit me, you risk hitting the ankle-biter, too. Don't you think that'd be a little too... dangerous?"

Darkwing's finger trembled at the trigger. "Let her go, Negaduck. She's not involved in any of this."

"Since when have I spared the innocent people?" Negaduck laughed. "Hell, they're my favorite targets for shooting practice!"

"If you put down the girl--"

_"Nega-- Dumpster fire, dumpster fire!"_

Negaduck shushed Darkwing, moving slowly away as he grabbed the walkie talkie from his belt. "Still alive, van Quack?"

_"I took care of most of the cops. I'm outside with Camille--she got Bruno's finger. She says Phantom B killed him."_

_"That'ssss right, but I cut off the fing--"_

Darkwing twitched and Negaduck moved the chainsaw an inch closer to the kid's head. "NP and Phantom still in the house?" he demanded.

"DW!" Launchpad shouted from down the hall. "We've got the big guy who looks a lot like me kinda!"

_"Phantom's just coming out now."_

_"No sssign of NP."_

Negaduck nearly crushed the radio.

_"Boss? We can't stay! More of those leeches in black and blue are on the way!"_

"We can do an exchange, Negaduck," Darkwing said calmly, "your partner for the girl."

Negaduck ground his teeth; another headache was coming on fast. He hadn't been joking when he said NP was the most valuable member of the team. And the only one who knew Negaduck's personal hideout.

If Negaduck agreed to the exchange, there was a possibility he'd be arrested, too. Assuming Darkwing didn't have a trick up his sleeve, by the time he got outside, the place would be swarmed with police and all his remaining three teammates gone. After all, even as a team, it was still about saving your own ass in the end.

"I don't negotiate with babies!" Negaduck snarled, ducking into the escape tunnel.

Darkwing choked. "No!" he cried, chasing after the fleeing criminal.

The tunnel was short, and Negaduck rushed outside into the underground parking lot. There was a car--ready and waiting. Darkwing arrived just as Negaduck tossed the girl in the back seat. Darkwing fired a tranquilizer dart; Negaduck moved in time, the dart piercing the top of his hat and throwing it from his head.

"Don't follow me if ya want to see this brat alive again!" Negaduck threatened, diving into the car. He didn't bother closing the door; hit the accelerator and peeled out of the lot, leaving scorching skid marks.

Darkwing took out his tracker gun, fired a round, but the car was already gone. He dropped his weapon, falling back against the wall. Darkwing took off his hat, breathing picking up-- He screamed, loud and angry and raw, throwing his hat to the ground.

\----

Negaduck crashed through police cars as he raced down the street. He didn't spot any of his subordinates. The police weren't firing at the car, either; Darkwing must have radioed them about his hostage, to keep their distance. A helicopter followed from above, and it wouldn't be long until the Thunderquack joined them.

The Fearsome Five planned an elaborate escape route should this happen. It took them down tighter alleys in more crowded areas where the buildings were tall, making it harder to see from above. He wound and zipped around corners, driving over a variety of things--a nose cone, bicycle rack, and a fruit cart, which covered the front window in strawberry melon mush.

"Who's out selling fruit at ten at night?" Negaduck barked, switching on the windshield wipers. After a third sweep, he could see out again, giving him a five second opening to turn the car before it hit a wall.

Negaduck twisted the steering wheel; the car jerked, groaning as it was thrown around. Its boot-end hit the wall, however, slamming Negaduck's head into the wheel.

Negaduck slowly sat up, bleeding from a cut across his forehead. "Shitty, foreign cars." He punched the dashboard hard enough to inflate the airbag. He spit and hissed and yelled as he tore it apart, freeing himself.

The little girl moaned, having been thrown onto the floor. Negaduck could hear the thumping of helicopter blades closing in. He reached back, grabbed the kid and fled down the alley. Negaduck kept checking above him, the shadow of the Thunderquack not far behind. He nearly tripped, but fortunately it was on the lid of a manhole.

The lid shut just as the Thunderquack pulled to hover right above the narrow alley.

It wasn't as safe to use the sewers anymore. Not when Darkwing and the police had gotten wise to it being a popular spot for criminal activity. But Negaduck knew this area; he was still on the emergency route, and a half a mile ahead he'd find the exit to one of his hideouts. If he dumped the kid, Darkwing would surely stop and make sure she was okay, giving Negaduck more time and space between them.

On the other hand, having a hostage did help a little, and he hadn't forgotten about the possible exchange--

"What are you thinking, you clod?" Negaduck cursed at himself, wading through sewer water, the kid thrown over his shoulder. Darkwing wasn't going to take any chances putting the girl at risk, but once she was safe in his hands, he or his sidekick or the cops would spring on Negaduck and NP. That or something else to make sure the two didn't get away.

Negaduck was almost tempted to let the kid die. There was a pass up ahead, twenty feet high with rushing, raging water below. He could drop her, let the fall take her out. Maybe she'd drown. 

Then again... Maybe the organization wanted her. Despite leaving her out of the file, she could still be an important asset to the group. And if that were the case, she was an even bigger asset to Negaduck, especially alive. If this all powerful organization was so damn great, they could get NP out in exchange for the kid instead. And if they weren't so damn great, he could leverage the ankle-biter for more money, and more supplies.

Either way, might make this organization his enemy. Whether the bastards were that powerful or not, Negaduck didn't care. He wasn't afraid of some shady mob or whatever. Negaduck was afraid of nothing.

"Negaduck!"

Negaduck almost threw the little girl at Splatter Phoenix's head when it suddenly popped out from a hole in the wall.

"You--"

"We've been looking for you and NP along the route! Camille, as above, and I, so below. I figured there was a highly likely chance you'd take the road less trav is that a child?"

Negaduck scowled and pushed her head back into the hole. "No time!"

Splatter stepped aside, letting Negaduck hop in. With the coast clear, she painted the hole closed.

\----

"So... NP was arrested."

"Do you think he'll sssay anything?"

"Who's to say but for him to say?"

Tap tap tap.

"Phantom'sss right. NP'sss sssuper loyal to Negaduck. He wouldn't tattle."

"Perhaps, but he's also a bit of a... how to put this eloquently?"

"He'sss not here, Sssplatter, you can sssay 'ssstupid.'"

Tap.

"Hardly. Why would Negaduck risk both himself and the rest of the team breaking NP out?"

"Negaduck isss hard to read, let alone underssstand. If he wasssn't ssso sssmart and cool, and I didn't like being in thisss team, I'd maim his asssss."

"Oh, you need not tell me that. There are days where I wish to paint his bill shut. And yet, all great artists suffer from inner torment. Negaduck has channeled all his pain into his weapons, the tools of his trade, and used them to paint St. Canard into postmodern masterpieces of existential crisis and uninhibited emotion. ... Now, if he were some mediocre art student working on graphic designs for local shops, then I'd probably kill him."

Tap tap tap tap tap.

"He's still got that girl with him. He probably won't be back until tomorrow. As for me, I'm going out to deplete the rest of my adrenaline and anger over leaving that palace of pretentiousness with no loot, and re-paint all the hideous posters at the Hawk Inn theatre."

"Oh, sssoundsss fun! Can I come too?"

"I could use a critic, I suppose, though we are our own worst critics."

"Awesssome!"

Tap.

"Sssweet dreamsss, Phantom B. Now: let'sss party!"

\----

Negaduck tapped a finger on the table. Tap tap tap--matching the click click click of his wall mounted "junk antique chic" clock. It'd been over two hours now. Two hours since he fled the mansion with a little girl he kidnapped without thinking things through. Two hours since NP was arrested, no doubt being questioned right at this moment.

Even though it’d be safer to hide out elsewhere, in case NP did talk, Negaduck just… wasn’t in the mood. Besides, he was confident in NP enough not to tell the cops anything. At least, not everything. Either way, Negaduck had set up an early warning system throughout and outside the house, booby-traps that would notify him in case unwanted guests should swing by.

And Negaduck never did mention to NP that simple underground bomb shelter hidden in the overgrown weeds and grass out back.

Tomorrow, Negaduck would meet up with the rooster and his men at a designated spot at a designated time. Although they got Bruno's finger, Feathers's was still unaccounted for. Perhaps the kid would make up for it.

"Mm... sir?"

Negaduck reached for his knife, hand lingering over his belt as the little girl walked into the living room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She yawned, blinked a few times; when she saw Negaduck, she smiled. "You saved me!" she cried, rushing over for another hug.

Negaduck held her back at arms' length, though she kept her arms outstretched. "Just who the Hell are you, kid?" he demanded.

The girl gasped and stepped back. "Oh, bad manners!" she said. She crossed her ankles together and did a polite curtsy. "My name is Tuffy Swansong. What's your name, sir?"

Negaduck raised a brow. "... You... don't know who I am? Lemme guess, you only watch cartoons."

"Oh, no, I don't watch cartoons or TV!" Tuffy stated. She raised a finger, reciting sternly, "'TV will only rot your brain. You should read instead.' That's what my uncle said. And I do like reading!"

Negaduck felt nauseous. "And your uncle never told you about someone called Negaduck? Hell, Darkwing--"

Tuffy covered her ears. "Cursing makes your tongue rot!"

Bile bubbled in Negaduck's throat. "You stupid or something, kid? How can you not know at least who Darkwing Duck is?"

Tuffy tapped her beak. "Well... Truth be told, sir, I spend most of my time alone at my uncle's house. I have Miss Finch and my teacher, though. But my uncle tells me I have to stay in my room at all times. Oh! But he does let me play outside on the weekends." She looked a little sad. "I don't mind, though. He gives me lots of toys and books to read. He feeds me three times a day--the perfect balance!"

Negaduck covered his bill, coughing. He went to the sink and spit up some of the bile. Tuffy watched on, oblivious. 

"Your uncle, huh? Your parents dead or somethin'?"

Tuffy wilted. "Yes."

Negaduck picked his nose with a pinkie, sniffed. "Sucks."

"Oh, picking your nose will cause your fingers to rot!"

"My teeth are rotting just looking at you, kid."

"Did you brush them this morning? Oh no, it must be late! I haven't eaten dinner yet! Or brushed my teeth!"

"Why were you at Feathers and Bruno's safe house?"

"Oh." Tuffy bit her bottom bill. "Um... Well. One day, that lady and that man came to my uncle's when he wasn't home. Our maid, Miss Finch, had left for lunch, they said, and then they told me my uncle sent them to take me to the park! I wouldn't have gone with them because they were strangers, but they knew my uncle really well and said I could call him when I got into the car!"

Negaduck sighed, plopping back onto his rickety chair. "And who is your uncle?"

"My uncle is Crowley Ducklass, and he is a scientist and inventor! He makes things for the government!"

Negaduck wanted to point out Tuffy's openness with him, despite the fact he was still a stranger. She did think he "rescued" her, however--guess it cancelled that rule out.

"What does he make?"

Tuffy blinked, shrinking again. "Gee, I don't know... He's never told me. He just says they help the government." She waddled up to Negaduck, eyes bright. "I don't know why those mean people took me from my uncle--they never told me why, just kept me locked in a closet, and for three days, too! But you're going to take me back to my uncle, right?"

Negaduck sat back, folding his arms. If this Crowley Ducklass worked for the government, the guy must make a ton of money. Assuming he wasn't part of the organization that hired the Fearsome Five. Maybe the rooster was the kid's uncle--adoptive, probably. Maybe that's why he wanted Feathers and Bruno killed.

"Excuse me, sir, but you still haven't told me your name."

"I said Negaduck, didn't I?" Negaduck snorted.

Tuffy giggled. "Negaduck! Nifty! It sounds like a superhero's name." She beamed. "And you are a superhero, right? I once read a comic book before my uncle told me they rot your eyes, and there was a superhero who wore a cape and mask and had a weird name, and he helped all these nice people and did all these nice things for th--"

Negaduck laughed harshly. "You're... Kid." He stood up to his full height, intimidating and imposing, his eyes glowering with the heat of a thousand suns collapsing into galaxy consuming supernovas. "Do I _look_ like a superhero? Do I _sound_ like a superhero?"

Tuffy thought a moment. "Well, I've never met one! I only saw one in the comic, and comics aren't good for you, so he must be weird looking for a real superhero," she explained.

"Did that comic happen to have a supervillain?"

"Um... No? He fought a bank robber. Is that a supervillain? The hero didn't call him a supervillain. The bank robber didn't look like you at all, either!"

Negaduck groaned, falling back into his seat, ignoring one leg breaking and shifting backwards.

"Also, um... Is this your house?" Tuffy looked around the room, nervously wringing her hands. "I don't want to be rude, Mister Negaduck, but it's very messy in here. My uncle said if you don't keep your room clean, you'll rot from all the germs."

"Rot's exactly how I like it, kid," Negaduck smirked. "But, hey, you wanna clean the place? Be my guest. Just don't go in my room. Not that you can; it's locked. But don't think about even tryin', got it?"

Tuffy's eyes twinkled and Negaduck felt very uncomfortable. "Oh! I love to clean! I help Miss Finch with chores sometimes! And I won't go into your room, I promise! My uncle has the same rules," she said, clapping. "After I clean up, will you take me to my uncle?"

Negaduck chewed on his tongue, brows knitting together. "... I spoke to your uncle. He's busy right now. He said I can take you back tomorrow night."

Tuffy frowned. "Oh... Okay. Well! Before I clean up, can I have something to eat?" She rubbed her belly. "I'm awfully hungry and my stomach hurts a little."

Negaduck wanted to tell the child to eat the dust bunnies and mold, but... If she was going to clean his house, she needed the energy, so whatever. He went to the fridge, opened it. There wasn't much inside--just like always. There was, however, a styrofoam box containing NP's leftovers from two days ago. His fourth burger and a handful of fries. 

Negaduck looked back at the kid; she swept the dust off one of the chairs, politely sat herself at the table.

"Here." Negaduck tossed the box in front of her, dropping a plastic fork and spoon on top. "Eat this. Microwave's full of grenades, so you'll have to eat it cold."

"Thank you, Mister Negaduck," Tuffy said, and opened the box. Her face twisted up in disgust. "... Is... Is this a burger? I'm... not suppose to eat those. Or fries. My uncle says they'll make my stomach rot."

"Yeah? Well, it's either that or nothin'."

Tuffy fretted a moment. "... O-Okay. Um. Can I get something to cut the burger with?"

Negaduck stuck a butcher knife into the table. Tuffy's eyes almost popped from her head.

And because he knew she'd eventually ask, Negaduck returned to the table, handing her a glass of... mostly fresh water. Tuffy was still deciding whether to eat the cold burger and fries or starve. "It ain't poisonous, kid. What?" He bit off the cap to his beer, spitting it across the room. "Never had a burger before?"

"No, I haven't."

"Uncle's sheltered little princess."

"'Sheltered'?"

"Just eat the damn burg--"

"Lang--"

"Eat the burger, you brat!"

Tuffy hurriedly cut a piece of the burger off, stuffing it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and slowly the light returned to her eyes. Christ, it was almost blinding. "It's a little soggy, but..." Tuffy gulped the food down. "It tastes so nifty!"

"If you throw it up later, so help me..."

Tuffy hungrily wolfed down the burger and fries. Negaduck watched her, somewhat... amused. She must have been starving, suddenly forgetting all her manners to shovel food down her gullet. But once she finished, she noticed Negaduck staring, and Tuffy quickly put the last fry down, cleared her throat, wiped off her face, and sat upright. "I'm done with my meal. It was very delicious. Thank you, Mister Negaduck."

"Whatever."

Tuffy slid off the chair, taking the box. "Where should I throw this away?"

"Eh. I don't care."

Tuffy just placed it on the counter next to the piles of dirty dishes. "I don't want to get my dress dirty, Mister Negaduck," she said, "do you have anything I can wear over it?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay. Where's the broom?"

"Don't have one."

"Where's the mop?"

"Carved it into a spear."

"Where's the trash bags?"

"... Full."

"Do you have any cleaner?"

"Used it all on some... red paint."

"What about rags or paper towels?"

"Beats me."

Tuffy wiggled nervously, but went to the kitchen sink. She squeaked, recoiling as three rats suddenly ran out and disappeared down the hall. "Golly! Those are big rats!" she wheezed.

"Stinky, Trashy, Dumpy," Negaduck mumbled, swirling the beer in his half-empty bottle, "they belong to NP." He slouched forward; why was he feeling so morose? The job sucked, even if he and most of his team had gotten away and did what the rooster asked.

"NP?"

"Are you gonna clean or run your mouth?"

"Yes! I'm going to clean, sorry!"

\----

Negaduck sat on the sofa, watching Tuffy clean up the living room. There wasn't much she could work with, but she found a couple rags and good old soap and water would do the trick. She hummed to herself, as she wiped off the tables and radio, then the larger stains on the walls, and then the floor itself, until she had to stop from an allergy attack. Her pink dress was absolutely filthy, some of her hair falling out of their bows, face smudged in dust.

"You missed a spot," Negaduck said, gesturing to the kitchen and dining area.

Tuffy finished her sneezing fit. "... S-Sorry. I'll do them too. Can I rest for a minute?"

"I'm not payin' you, I don't care."

Tuffy wiped off her dress then climbed onto the sofa. She sat at the other end, but the cushion sunk down and she ended up falling against Negaduck's side. Negaduck grabbed her shoulder to shove her away, but Tuffy suddenly latched to his side, burying her dirty face into his jacket.

"Get off--"

"Do you think my uncle misses me?"

Negaduck groaned. Here we go. "Yeah, sure."

Tuffy turned her head, sniffling, but not from the dust. "When I called him in the mean people's car, he didn't sound like he was upset. He said he was too busy and would call back. I didn't mind, 'cause he's always busy, and he rarely ever spends time with me, but... Did he know I was being kidnapped?"

"How should I know, kid?"

"The mean lady told me that my uncle doesn't love me. That my uncle is being 'very difficult.' That he doesn't really seem like he wants me back, 'cause he wouldn't give them something."

Negaduck shrugged one shoulder. He winced as Tuffy rubbed her face against his side again.

"I hope he's okay, now that he knows you rescued me. I hope he'll be happy to see me. I don't want him to cry, but is it bad if I was okay if he cried?"

"Crying's the best. As in, making other people cry."

Tuffy sighed, sinking into the sofa. "I guess..."

"Got that outta your system? The floor's not gonna finish washin' itsel--"

"Who's NP?"

Negaduck stiffened. "He's... a guy," he said. "It's none of your business."

"Oh. When you told me about his rats, you sounded... sad. Is Mister NP all right?"

Negaduck pushed Tuffy away, bolting from the couch. "Clean up, or shut up, got it?" he snarled, throwing the rags at her face.

\----

Negaduck couldn't sleep in his room--not with the girl. The only room that wasn't loaded with weapons and other such dangerous items that were very precious to Negaduck didn't have a lock on it. Perhaps if he barricaded the door...

Negaduck needed to sleep. He had places to be tomorrow--no, today, since it was nearly two in the morning. The kid did a little more cleaning before she got too sleepy to stand, sick from all the dust clogging her sinuses. Negaduck didn't care about her cleaning in the first place, so allowed Tuffy to curl up on the sofa.

Negaduck made sure to double check all the locks and windows. He triple-locked the front door, stuffed the keys in his turtleneck. If she wanted to get out, the little munchkin would need to pick the keys off of him--and Negaduck was a very light sleeper. Had to be, especially right now; it was a lot easier to wake up from an explosion or someone wailing in pain from walking on a mine or into a bear trap.

He sat down on one of the blue recliners--the left, the right belonged to NP--and got comfortable, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing it over the armrest.

Negaduck watched Tuffy sleep, curled up in a little ball, her chest rising and falling slowly. Sometimes she'd wheeze or sneeze, but remained fast asleep. He admired the kid--she could sleep through anything, it seemed. After a half hour monitoring his hostage, Negaduck felt confident and exhausted enough to shut his eyes and sink into sleep.

Negaduck woke up, feeling something poke him in the ribs. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but that didn't matter-- To his shock and horror, Tuffy had gotten up and climbed into his lap, choosing to fall asleep there, resting her head against his chest, legs tucked beneath her.

God, but Negaduck was too frustrated and tired. He couldn't be bothered. While Tuffy was closer to the keys now, he had a feeling she wasn't going to try anything. But before he could nod back off, Tuffy shivered, her teeth rattling. She didn't have a blanket or pillow--probably too cold to sleep alone then.

Negaduck didn't really question it, his mind was too foggy. He carefully pulled his jacket off the arm rest, laying it over Tuffy's back. Tuffy smiled and sighed in her sleep, tugging it around her.

How revolting. Negaduck went back to sleep.

\----

Negaduck woke with a startle. He jumped in his recliner, looking down wide-eyed. Tuffy was gone. But then he heard clattering noises from the kitchen. He cursed under his breath, at both himself for not waking up when she moved, and the kid for messing around with his things.

"Hey!" Negaduck snapped, stomping over to the kitchen. "What the He--"

Tuffy twirled around. Negaduck reeled back; she had tied his cape around her, turning the inside out into a red cloak. "Oh, good morning! I'm sorry if I woke you!" she apologized cheerfully. She stood back up on the old stool, putting another clean dish on the drying rack. She'd almost finished washing them all.

"I'm sorry I put on your cape, Mister Negaduck," Tuffy mumbled, giving him the sad puppy dog eyes, "but my dress is so dirty, I didn't wanna get anything in the water."

Negaduck... stepped back, massaging a temple. "... Dishes. You're... doing the dishes."

"Well, I wanted to make us breakfast! I thought pancakes! I know how to make those! But you didn't have any clean plates, so I decided to wash them. But I looked and you don't have any pancake mix, either. I found a box of cereal, but I think one of the rats... Well, I don't think those are raisins. They didn't smell like raisins."

"I'm not hungry," Negaduck snorted, "and if you're hungry, there's the knife from last night. The rats should be hiding under the sofa. Have fun."

Tuffy paled. "Nooo! I could never do that! And they're your friend NP's friends!"

"He's not going to miss them now that he..." Negaduck stopped himself. He turned away, scowling.

"Um... So... What time do we go see my uncle?"

"When I tell you we're going to see your uncle."

Tuffy frowned. "Okay..."

Negaduck's stomach knotted again, and he wanted to vomit. "Fffu..." He bitterly opened a cupboard, taking out a chocolate energy bar. "Here. Eat this."

"Is that chocolate?" Tuffy asked, unsure. "My uncle says chocolate--"

"It's either this or rat shish kabob, kid."

"I-I'll take the chocolate, thank you."

\----

The chocolate energy bar might... have been a mistake.

Shortly after eating the bar ("Nifty sweet!"), suddenly Tuffy was energetically running about, rambling as she tried to clean with only a couple rags and bucket of dirty water. She talked about everything and anything and nothing of importance. Negaduck, having completely zoned out for his remaining sanity's sake, took the keys and went to shower. Usually he'd be yelling and threatening to eat the kid like some evil witch, but... Hell, Negaduck didn't know. Maybe he was depressed?

"Mister Negaduck!" Tuffy squealed, sticking her head into the bathroom. "I finished cleaning off the table I put a couple magazines under one leg so it's straight now but the magazines were naughty because there were naughty pictures on the covers but I promise I didn't look inside them I just used them because they were the only thing I could find do you have any books here Mister Negaduck any I can read boy you're sure missing out if you don't have any books maybe I can give you some of my old ones after you drop me o--"

Negaduck got out of the shower, slammed the door on her face, then got back into the shower. Pretended the kid wasn't still chatting on the other side.

By the time Negaduck got out and dressed, Tuffy was winding down. She sat on one of the recliners, singing to herself as she polished a candelabra.

"You calmed down yet?" Negaduck grumbled. "Or do I need to help you calm down?" He nodded at the candelabra.

"I'm fine now, Mister Negaduck," Tuffy reassured, beaming. Again came the nausea. "Hey, Mister Negaduck, I found this candle holder thingy under the sofa, and it reminded me-- Did you know my birthday is in three weeks and four days? I'll be turning nine!"

Negaduck just ignored her, getting another beer from the fridge. He didn't usually drink this much, especially when he had work later, but... Yeah, had to be the kid. He took half a bottle of pills before sitting down on the second recliner--NP's, actually. He hadn't noticed yet.

"I asked my uncle for my birthday if we could go to the park and have a party. I asked if we could have a cake--I know cake is bad for you, but it's just for one special day, right? I asked for balloons and fireworks. I said he absolutely has to come, so it's not just Miss Finch and I."

"And that's all?" Negaduck huffed. "No friends, huh? I'd feel bad for you, but I'm numb to the pain of others." He sipped his beer. "And friends are overrated."

Tuffy sniffed. "No, I... don't have any friends. I used to think my stuffed animals were my friends, but... I know they're not really alive."

Negaduck yawned. "Uh huh," he replied absently.

Tuffy smiled at Negaduck. "Maybe... Maybe you could come to my party, Mister Negaduck?"

Negaduck blinked. "Uh--Huh?"

"You should come to my birthday party!" Tuffy said, bouncing in the recliner. A spring ejected from the top, narrowly missing her head. "You and Mister NP! You don't gotta buy me any gifts. You rescued me, after all. And you can have the biggest slice of cake!"

Negaduck swallowed down regurgitated stomach acid. "I don't do parties."

"Why? If my uncle says it's okay, there'll be balloons and fireworks, maybe even a clown!"

"Who still finds clowns funny these days?" Negaduck spat. "But... fireworks, you say. Where is this park?"

"Central Canard! The biggest park in St. Canard!"

"That's near the Central Canard Gardens, right?"

"Oh, yes! I went there when I was really little, and it was so so so pretty, I remember all the flowers I saw! Miss Finch says it won awards because it's got sooo many nifty plants and flowers and stuff from all over the world!"

"... I'll come to your party, kid, but you give me the fireworks and let me set them off where I want to. Deal?"

Tuffy didn't understand, but nodded happily. "Sure!" She hopped down from the chair, waddled over to Negaduck and held out a hand. "Shake on it? I see my uncle shake hands with lots of people! He says it's to 'seal the deal' and it's what all professional people do!"

Negaduck grit his teeth, warily eyeing the kid's hand and her bright smile. With a dramatic groan, Negaduck took her hand and shook it limply.

"We sealed the deal! See you at my party, Mister Negaduck!"

\----

It was almost nine. Negaduck had Tuffy wipe her dress off with a wet rag as best as she could. Still too dirty. "Geez, you little..." He sighed furiously, bending down to wipe the dirt from her bill and forehead. One of her bows was loose; it was like solving a difficult riddle, but Negaduck finally managed to fix and straighten it.

"Thanks!" Tuffy giggled.

"Don't."

"Okay!"

Negaduck had a few spare getaway cars, fortunately. He ordered Tuffy into the backseat while he "put a couple things away" in the trunk. Tuffy waited for him patiently, excited and kicking her legs, tightly buckled up. She looked out of place with the seat covered in paint and ink splotches, one of NP's muddy jackets, and some of Camille's vomit when they'd driven a little too fast during one heist.

"Maybe I can clean your car next time, Mister Negaduck."

"Sure, kid," Negaduck replied, the car grunting and choking as he backed out of the garage. Tuffy yipped, clutching to her belt as Negaduck sped way too fast down the street.

"You might get a ticket, Mister Negaduck!"

"That's fine. I need to exercise my fist on someone anyway."

"Huh? Something's rattling really loudly back here!" Tuffy shouted, grimacing.

"Cane from that old guy must have gotten stuck in the undercarriage."

"What?"

"Shut up."

Negaduck slowed down once they reached the freeway. He wasn't out to get caught. He even wore a disguise--today he was P. Smew, a local high school janitor. He stopped Tuffy before she could ask any questions.

"Is it... is it bad that I'm scared, Mister Negaduck?"

Negaduck peered back at her through the rear view mirror, one visible eye gleaming. "Oh no, why ever should you feel scared, kid?"

"I don't know. It's just been a really scary week." Tuffy picked at the ruffles on her dress. "But I didn't mind staying with you yesterday. Even though I couldn't stop sneezing and crying from all the dust, it was fun. You gave me a burger and chocolate, too!"

"Well, I _am_ a superhero. I do leaps and bounds like that."

"Hey, Mister Negaduck... I wanted to ask you something yesterday..."

"Well, don't."

"Mmm..."

Negaduck sighed, rolling his eyes. "Spit it out."

"Who was that guy at the mean people's house that dressed like you? But he wore different colors. Is he your twin brother? Is he another her--"

Negaduck cranked the radio, blasting hard rock music. He smirked when Tuffy quickly covered her ears, feathers fluffing up.

\----

By the time Negaduck arrived at the designated rendezvous point, Tuffy was fast asleep. It was ten, past her bedtime. She slept peacefully, head lolling to the side, hugging the belt across her chest.

"Stay put, kid," Negaduck mumbled, taking a gun from the glove compartment and climbing out.

Another wide alley, next to another abandoned building. It was relatively quiet out here, and it made Negaduck very uneasy. Gun tucked away with Bruno's boxed finger, Negaduck cautiously continued down the alley, keeping an eye on the shadows and rooftops.

Negaduck was only ten feet from the car when those strange little men in yellow uniforms shuffled out, all armed.

"Well done, well done, Negaduck. Even though it was a bit of a mess, the organization and I were impressed with your work."

"Hand over the money," Negaduck growled at the tall, shadowy figure, "and you'll get Bruno's finger."

"Pity you couldn't get Feathers's, too. But a couple-a my agents were at the scene, and confirmed it was your team who offed the traitors."

Negaduck's eyes widened. "What? Who were they? The police?"

The rooster chuckled. "Y'see, Negaduck. The St. Canard police are divided into three groups. One are the crooked cops. The second the good cops--the ones who try so hard to make a difference. And then there's _our_ cops. It's highly likely you've run into one of our undercover agents in the past, especially if they're part of the law enforcement."

"The chick mentioned something about FOWL," Negaduck said. "Is that who you are? FOWL?"

"Yup. Fiendish Organization for World Larceny. We're a crime syndicate that's very interested in... well, the name speaks for itself. Too bad about Feathers and Bruno. They just had to turn to SHUSH and spill--"

"I'm not interested in your sob story," Negaduck hissed. "I want the second half of the payment."

"Oh, of course, of course." He nodded at the minion in front of him. The duck walked over, holding a briefcase.

"Stay right there," Negaduck commanded, pointing a good fifteen feet away. "Open the briefcase. Slowly. Cause if you plan on takin' me down like you did your exes, you're going to miss one very important piece of your puzzle."

"Oh? And what would that be?" The rooster sounded amused.

Negaduck pointed back at the car. "Tuffy Swansong, Crowley Ducklass's niece. I have her with me. And I also have this." He produced a remote with a button. "I push this baby, and that entire car goes up in smoke and shrapnel, taking your precious carg--"

"Who?"

Negaduck snarled at being interrupted. "Ya got money stuffed in yer ears? Tuffy Swansong. Ducklass's niece, who I expect works for you."

The rooster stroked his chin. With a laugh, he snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, right. Yeah, that was pretty sad, too. But when we learned Bruno and Feathers were forcing him to give up more of FOWL's information in exchange for his niece... Well. If he'd just kept his mouth shut. Even if he was threatened, he still spilled the beans, and we at FOWL hate wastin' our rations."

Negaduck was confused. "So you... killed Crowley?"

"Pity. And ya know what's funny? He didn't even care about his niece. Felt she was more a burden. But he took her in--Crowley was always a bit too soft for us hard boiled eggs. After he offed his own sister and brother-in-law testing his new weapon... Guess he just felt bad for the kid. Guess he felt bad when she was kidnapped, too," the rooster explained. He swished a dismissive hand. "Do whatever you want with the girl. She knows nothing. Kill her, abandon her on someone's doorstep, throw her in the trash. Makes no difference to us."

Negaduck was quiet. He glanced back at the car, then to the rooster. "You said you own half of the police."

"Correctomundo."

"... Then I need you to do me a favor."

The rooster laughed. "Lemme guess. You want us to break your sidekick outta jail?"

Negaduck scowled. "You want my team working with you, he's part of the team."

"Of course, of course. FOWL is very interested in hiring you again in the future. As for your friend..." the rooster smirked. "That's an easy one. You shoulda asked for a better, bigger favor."

Negaduck snorted. "Now lemme see the money."

The minion unlocked the briefcase, opened it. Negaduck could see the rows of cash, nothing else. To ease his mind, the minion took each of the clips of money out and placed them in three neat rows.

"If you feel we booby-trapped the briefcase, you can take the cash back in a grocery bag, I guess. Sorry we don't come equipped with those. Feel free to inspect and count 'em, but I've gotta run in ten minutes. The organization waits for no one, includin' a big hot shot like me."

Negaduck ignored him. He slowly approached the money, flipping through the stacks. They looked real, smelled real. No indication of counterfeiting. He stuffed the money down the front of his jacket until the cash was bursting from the seams. "How do I get a hold of your friends?" he asked finally.

"Oh, you don't. But it's fine. We'll call you. I assume you're satisfied?"

"For now. Until you do my little favor." Negaduck placed the boxed finger on the ground, kicked it over. A minion grabbed it, rushing back into the dark with his boss.

"Ah, excellent. Well then. You have yourself a fine night, Mr. Negs. Maybe treat yourself to a nice dinner. May I recommend Magret's--wonderful, exotic dishes, absolutely divine."

Negaduck walked back to the car without another word. The rooster sighed and shrugged but got into his limo. The minions once more following in their clown car.

Negaduck opened the trunk, quickly disabled the bomb. He unbuttoned his jacket, letting all the bricks of money fall inside. So far these FOWL people had kept up their end of the bargain--if NP wasn't released within the week, Negaduck... wasn't sure what he'd do.

Whatever. It was all in FOWL's hands now.

Negaduck placed the key in the ignition, stopped mid-turn when he heard hiccuping from the back seat. Negaduck adjusted the rear view mirror to see Tuffy curled up in a ball--another hiccup, a whimper... She was crying.

Negaduck groaned. "Fucking shit."

\----

The ride back was silent. Except Tuffy's sobbing. But at least she was being quiet about it.

Negaduck hadn't said a word to her yet. He was debating what to do with the kid. Killing her was obviously the best and most logical idea. She may not know anything about her late uncle, but she had been in Negaduck's private hideout.

Yet...

Negaduck never directly killed a kid. He was sure some died in the explosions, maybe a few in a couple of their heists. But he'd never actually faced a kid and... And it didn't feel the same. It was like killing an ant. Harmless, useless, waste of time. And dropping her off at an orphanage risked her talking, too.

Negaduck supposed he could keep Tuffy for one more night. Or until NP returned--if he ever did. He'd probably know what to do. Negaduck wasn't good with kids.

_MAKE THE WORLD A LESS DANGEROUS PLACE. - DARKWING DUCK (AKA_

Let someone else sort out this drama.

It was midnight when Negaduck pulled up to a fast food drive-thru. He ordered enough food for both him and the kid. Tuffy was used to fancy shit, so he supposed she'd probably want a salad. And some juice instead of soda. When Negaduck drove up to the window and the cashier asked for the money, he casually pointed his gun at him. 

Negaduck left with three bags of greasy but free food.

Tuffy had long cried herself back to sleep when Negaduck reached his house. He carried her in one arm, let her rest her head on his shoulder, and the food in the other. The ungrateful little shit, falling asleep when he got her a warm meal. It was her fault; Tuffy could just eat it cold later.

Negaduck dropped the bags of food on the floor. He looked at the sofa, contemplating. With another frustrated growl, he carried Tuffy to the free spare room. She slept there the first night anyway. Negaduck laid her down on the bed--just two couch cushions pushed together--and since he wasn't planning on sleeping any time soon, he gave her his blanket.

Negaduck wasn't too worried about her escaping. Not like she had anywhere to go now. Maybe Miss Finch. Although he was sure Feathers and Bruno had killed or severely injured her when they said she'd "gone out to lunch." Well, if she was injured, she was alive, and Miss Finch could handle juggling her hospital bills and taking care of a kid on her own.

\----

Negaduck dreamed about some annoying brat sitting on his knee, thanking him from the bottom of his little pitter-pattering heart for all that he'd done for him. For making his life better in every possible way. Negaduck dreamed he was someone else, someone who was supposed to be long gone and dead. Someone who was actually touched when he wrote his name on the child's photo of

\----

Negaduck slept two and a half hours. A headache was coming on, but he quickly nipped it in the bud with more Vicodin. It was morning now, nearly eight, and he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. There was neither sight nor sound of Tuffy. Sudden panic swelled in his chest, and Negaduck dashed into the spare room.

Tuffy was sitting on her couch cushion bed, her eyes still red from crying. She silently played with one of her ribbons, tying and untying knots.

Negaduck cleared his throat, composing himself. "You eaten yet? There's food in the fridge," he groused.

Tuffy shook her head.

"Then get up and eat. I don't wanna hear you bitchin' later."

Tuffy obediently and silently got up, head bowed as she shuffled into the dining room. Negaduck snorted; what a drama queen. She took her salad, yogurt, and apple juice from the fridge and sat down at the table, eyes lidded, face emotionless.

Negaduck grabbed two of the sandwiches he hadn't finished and sat across from Tuffy at the table. He picked them apart, throwing bits and pieces he didn't like on the ground, unfazed by the depressed little girl in front of him. Tuffy stared at her salad, poking at one green leaf with her spork over and over again.

Not even five minutes, and suddenly Tuffy was sobbing, tears spilling into her salad.

"You're gonna make it all fuckin' salty," Negaduck spat out food. But Tuffy kept crying, and Negaduck moaned. "So you heard everything, huh?"

Tuffy nodded weakly.

"About your uncle being killed and not actually really giving--"

"Why?" Tuffy wailed, big fat tears rolling down her face. "Why did they k... ki--" She couldn't finish, shaking her head and sobbing louder.

Negaduck's ears were ringing, but he wasn't... that mad. His stomach growled, but he wasn't hungry. If anything, he felt... empty. Weird. Out of place, even.

"They were lying, right?" Tuffy sniffed and sniffed, her puffy red eyes meeting Negaduck's. "My uncle's alive but he ran away somewhere safe and and they lied about what he did to my parents and... and he loves me a lot, right? And he's gonna come back s--"

"No," Negaduck interjected. His blunt tone shocked Tuffy, made her heart skip a beat. "No to all of that. Your uncle's dead. He killed your parents. But..." But? But _what_? "... He... might've cared about you. He didn't send you to some orphanage after blowing up your parents. And he did seem to try getting you back from those assholes. Although, because of that, those prim and prissy pricks sittin' nice and comfy up high decided to..." He trailed off as Tuffy's large eyes filled with tears again, mouth trembling open.

Shit. Here it came. Tuffy wailed, and Negaduck was sure he heard a dog howling nearby.

"Stop--stop crying!" Negaduck scowled. "C'mon! You're alive. That's all that matters."

"I wanna go home!" Tuffy blubbered.

"What home?" Negaduck spat, slapping the table. "Your uncle's dead. Your nanny's probably pushin' up daisies somewhere in Central Canard. There's nothin' left for you there. You're as good as dead for all the world cares!"

Tuffy violently shook her head. "No! That's not true! If nobody cared about me, then-then you wouldn't have saved me, and you--you would have thrown me into the trash like they said! If you like me, then there's gotta be others who like me, too!"

Negaduck growled, hands curling into fists. "I don't _like_ you! Don't you get it? I'm not a _hero_! I'm not Darkwing Duck! I'm not--" He stood up, knocking his chair over. " _I'm not Darkwing Duck!_ " Negaduck threw his food and drink off the table, bottle shattering against the fridge.

Tuffy bawled.

"Oh, grow up!" Negaduck snarled. "Your castle and kingdom's gone, princess. Now you're in the real world. It was always going to end, your dreamy, safe, sheltered life; surprise, but bad guys like your uncle, who are clumsy and stupid and over-emotional, always fuck up eventually. One way or another, you were destined to lose it all and be left with nothing!" He kicked his chair across the room. 

"In the end, that's all there is-- nothing! You think you've got everything, but then it's taken from you by people who think they're so much better, so high and mighty, and then everything you worked so hard for, everything that made you who you are, is thrown into the garbage with you alongside it!" Negaduck's eyes were red, and Tuffy shrunk in her chair. "You're not the main character anymore; you're not the hero or the princess anymore; and spite is all that's left to keep you going! Spite and vengeance and--and... and..."

Negaduck panted, all his feathers standing on end, vision doubled and body trembling. Tuffy was staring at him as if, for the first time, she knew exactly what he was.

"You wanna give up? Fine. Do it on your own time. But if you wanna fight back," Negaduck said, taking her plastic spork. "Then stop being the princess. Princesses don't get to do shit. But you know who does? You know who has all the control over the kingdom? Not the generals, not the dukes and duchesses, not the stupid, cock-headed knights in dumb cartoony uniforms. You know who's really in charge?"

Tuffy shook her head.

Negaduck grinned, showing his fangs. "The queen, kid. The queen. And you read that one book, yeah, that one book about the duckling who falls in some hole and lands in some psychedelic world fulla crazies and there's some caterpillar smokin' hash..."

"... A-Alice," Tuffy whispered, "Alice in--in Wonderland."

"Yeah, yeah! That one. And what was the queen like in that book?"

"She was... bad. She cut off people's heads."

"Did she cut off the king's head, too?"

Tuffy nodded.

"Well, then. Those pricks at FOWL, they think they rule this joint. They think they're the king. But if you're the queen, you know what you can do?" Negaduck snapped the spork in half. "Off with their heads!"

Tuffy wiped at her eyes, thinking. "What if... I don't wanna hurt anyone...?" she murmured.

"That's fine. Sometimes it takes a little while to transition into your new role. You need practice, kid," Negaduck chuckled, throwing the spork pieces over his shoulder. "And I know just the perfect veteran acting coach."


	3. Chapter 3

Negaduck knew Tuffy would be depressed for a good while. Her hopes and dreams, everything she knew and loved, had just been crushed. Negaduck confirmed through one of NP's lackeys that Miss Finch survived the assault, but was comatose.

Half a week, and still no NP. Negaduck knew he should be planning another heist, but... No. He wanted five team members, not four. And if NP didn't show up by the weekend... Negaduck would simply replace him. For now, Negaduck busied himself with Tuffy; she wasn't that lively albeit annoying kiss-up anymore, but at least she wasn't crying all the time. And she slept a lot, too, which was fine with Negaduck.

Negaduck did consider getting rid of her one last time. But there was something about her. He could see himself in her--a part of her. And there were other benefits to keeping the kid around, and not just for cleaning.

Which is what Negaduck told NP when he abruptly showed up at the door, a few cuts and bruises here and there but still in one piece.

"Boo! I'm a ghost!" NP laughed, waving his arms.

Negaduck stumbled back. "You... How did you--"

"Couple of cops smuggled me out," NP chuckled. "I didn't ask why. Don't bite the hand that frees you from jail, yanno?"

FOWL had returned the favor, but that didn't make Negaduck hate them any less. FOWL and the Fearsome Five might have agreed to work together on occasion, helping one another out, but Negaduck didn't like the idea of being second best. One day he'd take FOWL down--hopefully before Darkwing Duck did.

Negaduck brought NP inside, and immediately explained the situation: what happened after they escaped the manor, his time with Tuffy, his meeting with FOWL, and his intentions of keeping Tuffy under his wing.

NP... didn't seem to mind. He actually kinda liked the idea. "I mean," he said, knocking back his sixth beer, "we could use her as a hostage or decoy, too, right?"

"There is that, yes," Negaduck agreed, but only half heartedly. NP didn't even notice.

"Can I talk to the kid?"

"Yeah, yeah." Negaduck turned his head and screamed, "Tuffy! Get in here!"

Tuffy appeared a minute later, her hair down and dress washed clean. 

"I told you NP would be coming back soon," Negaduck said, gesturing to the larger duck. "So... here he is."

"Heya, Tuffy!" NP laughed. "Wow, that's a pretty tough sounding name!"

Negaduck rolled his eyes. A very _ill fitting_ name.

Tuffy did a small curtsy. "Hello, Mister NP," she replied quietly.

"Aw, there's no need to be shy," NP reassured, standing from the table. "I heard what happened to ya, an' yeah, that shit sure does suck, but hey!" He swept the surprised, squeaking girl up in his arms. "You can stay here! We get up to a lotta crazy stuff. It's always fun! An' maybe you can help us one day, too!"

Tuffy shrugged. "I suppose..."

NP puffed out air. "Hell no." He turned Tuffy upside down, rocking her back and forth as he tickled her sides. Despite herself, Tuffy started laughing, flailing her arms. "Shit shit! I think I'm wakin' her up now, Negs!"

"Please," Negaduck grumbled, massaging his forehead, "I don't need two hyperactive brats running around the place."

Tuffy caught her breath, smiling. "Mister NP, you're a superhero like Mister Negaduck, right? You wanna stop all the bad people, like the people who... who..." She trailed off, dimming again.

NP looked back at Negaduck, who just kept drinking. "... Uhh, yeah. We're totally heroes an' stuff. We, uh. We steal from the rich, an'... give to the poor. An', uh, we're really poor, so that's why uh, there's always lots and lots of money around here."

Tuffy perked back up a little. "Like Robin Hood?"

"Who? Also, just NP's fine. It stands for Night of P--"

Negaduck coughed wetly, as if spitting up a loogie.

"... Night of Pizz... Pleas... Uh... Peace?"

"Like a real knight?" Tuffy asked, intrigued.

"The... the one starting with a k...?"

"Yes!"

NP made a noise of pure displeasure. "... Yeah... s?"

Tuffy beamed. "You're a knight, and I'm a queen!" she declared.

NP laughed. "Oh, yeah? What's Negs, then?"

Tuffy pointed at Negaduck. "He's the magical pegasus the gods sent to rescue me and fly me away from all the evil bad guys!" she said warmly.

Negaduck slammed his bottle down, spilling beer on his hand. "I'm not a fuckin' horse with wings!"

"No, you're a pegasus!"

"Yea, Negs!" NP guffawed. "A freakin' pegasus!"

\----

Mr. and Mrs. Pengywen had just finished cleaning up the house, getting ready for tonight's dinner with the in-laws.

Mr. Pengywen spent hours in the kitchen, whipping up a variety of dishes. Mrs. Pengywen set the table, fluffed the couch pillows, vacuumed the carpet, dusted all their ceramic collectibles and fireplace mantel of framed photos.

Shortly after, their son, Mac Pengywen, returned from school. He was immediately sent to his room to tidy things up and wash before dinner. The in-laws would be here within the hour. They hadn't seen them in almost eight months, after Mr. Pengywen's parents decided to spend their first year of retirement traveling overseas. Truly they had many gifts and stories to share from their adventures.

Mrs. Pengywen was rearranging magazines on the coffee table when she heard a car honking from down the street.

"It's them!" she gasped. She rushed to the guest bathroom to freshen up.

"Mac!" Mr. Pengywen called up the stairs, platter of intricately cut and diced fruits and vegetables in his hands. "Your grandparents are--"

The old Mustang drove right through the front of the house, knocking down most of the wall. Mr. and Mrs. Pengywen screamed. The car braked before it could collide with the stairs. The couple could only stand and stare, too flabbergasted to move or say anything. They heard the driver window roll down, and then a fist punched away a chunk of debris.

Negaduck grunted as he forced the door open, slamming it repeatedly against the couch. He finally crawled out, brushing paint chips and dust from his hat and shoulders. "Don't worry," Negaduck said, coughing, "it's got a flat tire, so we're not gonna be using it anymore."

Mac came bounding down the stairs, but stopped before he could hit the grill of the car. He gaped, falling on his rear.

Splatter and Camille emerged through the hole, studying the room. 

"Phantom's keeping the van running," Splatter said.

"You got the list," Negaduck grunted, "get to work."

Mr. Pengywen finally stepped forward, platter on the ground and hands in the air. "S... Sir, p-please d-don't hurt m--"

"You got a kid, so you got kid plates and shit, right?" Negaduck huffed, knocking the man over. He stormed into the kitchen, throwing open doors and drawers. He found a couple colorful plates and cutlery--they were dinosaur themed, but they would do. Negaduck stuffed them in an empty sack; he went to the fridge, dumping armfuls of food into the bag next.

"H-Honey..." Mrs. Pengywen whined, knees buckling.

Splatter stepped up in front of the woman, holding a ceramic rainbow colored dog. "This is... divine," she purred, "so crude and rudimentary, yet the artist's intention shines through in its palette and the dog's delighted expression." She tilted her head back at Mac. "Your kid made this, correct?"

Mrs. Pengywen squeaked as her jaw worked open and closed.

"You've got a future artistic genius on your hands," Splatter smirked. She pocketed the dog figurine. "Cultivate his talent, help it grow. Squash it, deny the world his vision, and I will _squash you_."

Mrs. Pengywen fainted.

"Outta my way!" Negaduck snarled, shoving past Mac up the stairs. 

Camille giggled, pointing at the cartoon lizards on the child's shirt. "A fellow reptile fan, I sssee," she said. "Do you perhapsss own any lizardsss or sssnakesss?"

Mac gulped. "I... I have a goldfish?"

Camille pouted. "I sssuppose I could ussse a sssnack after moving all thisss ssstuff."

"Please don't eat my son's goldfish," Mr. Pengywen whimpered.

"I might ssspare the fish, if you show me where you keep all your shoessss."

Negaduck kicked down Mac's bedroom door. As expected, the kid was obsessed with dinosaurs. They were everywhere--wallpaper, bed sheets, toys. But Negaduck had chosen this place because it was a good distance from the inner city, the nearest neighbor a mile away. Mr. and Mrs. Pengywen just had to have a scrumptious, quiet, cozy lake house.

He threw toys, every book he could find, crayons and pencils, notepads into the sack. Mac was the perfect size, so all his clothes, good and bad, would go with Negaduck, too. Once the bag was stuffed, Negaduck flipped up the twin sized mattress, pushing it out the door.

"Camille!" Negaduck snapped. Camille glanced up from sorting through Mac's shoes. "Get this to the van!"

Camille smiled, transforming into her 'roided up bodybuilder form. Mac screamed and ran to his father as she reached over him to grab the mattress, easily hauling it outside on her back.

"Need a hand?" Splatter asked as Negaduck stomped down the stairs.

"No. You got two minutes."

"All I need," Splatter hummed, swaying up the stairs. "If your son has anymore masterpieces, I might just leave your jewelry and take those instead."

Negaduck stood in the doorway--or what was left of it. Camille and Phantom loaded up the mattress and bags of goodies. Negaduck plucked a knife from his belt, turning and throwing it, impaling the phone as Mr. Pengywen reached for it.

"I'm something of a father now, too," Negaduck said, wagging a finger, "I don't think I'd be willing to risk my kid's life pulling stupid stunts like that. Do you?"

Mr. Pengywen and Mac shook their heads.

"Headsss up! We got company!"

Negaduck looked outside; a car had pulled up to the house, abruptly braking. Inside was an elderly couple, bug eyed and gaping. Before they could decide what to do, Phantom B levitated the car and its passengers up in the air.

"No!" Mac cried. "Not grandma and grandpa!"

"Cool it, kid," Negaduck huffed. "Give it a good shake down."

Phantom B waved their staff back and forth; the car shook violently enough to open the doors, trunk, and hood. The old woman clung to her seat, her husband hanging from the steering wheel out his door. A variety of objects fell from the car, including a spare tire, a cooler full of dishes to pass, and six colorfully wrapped gifts. Two had goofy yellow and blue pterosaurs on the paper.

Camille giggled as she collected the gifts, adding them to the loot in the van.

"Keep nana and papa suspended 'til we leave," Negaduck ordered. Phantom B nodded, the car finally settling still. Negaduck whipped his head around, barked, "Splatter!"

"Here I am, here I am!" Splatter came skipping down the stairs, her bag filled with jewelry and cash. A small fish bowl was tucked under her arm. "Also, your child is irresponsible to keep a goldfish in such a confined space. Typical narrow-minded yuppies." She sneered down at Mr. Pengywen. "I will be taking the fish and giving it a proper home. Who are the villains now, you heartless tart?"

"I wasss kidding about eating the fish," Camille said, waving at Mac. She took the bowl from Splatter, held it up to her face, eyes comically bulbous in the glass. "My pet iguana isss going to eat it."

"Pack 'em up," Negaduck commanded, "let's get outta here. The air smells too... clean." He gagged.

Mr. Pengywen blinked, looking between the invaders. "So, you're not... going to kill us?"

Negaduck stopped, throwing up his arms. "I knew I forgot something! Thank you for reminding me!" He turned, gun pointed at Mr. Pengywen. "Toodles, idiots." He pulled his turtleneck up over his beak, shooting a cloud of sleeping gas. After one gulp, father and son dozed off and fell to the ground.

Negaduck ran outside, pulling down his collar and inhaling. "Dammit, I'm gettin' too soft these days..."

\----

Negaduck returned to the house with the van. NP, who had been babysitting Tuffy, came outside with her.

"Is my birthday surprise in the van, Mister Negaduck?" Tuffy asked, holding NP's hand.

"See for yourself," Negaduck said, throwing open the back doors.

NP and Tuffy walked around the van. Both gasped at what they saw.

"It's all dinosaurs," Negaduck grumbled, "it's all they had... on sale."

"Oh! What if we say they're dragons!" Tuffy cheered, clapping. "Dragons kidnap princesses, but queens can tame dragons and make the dragons protect them!"

NP gave a thumbs up. "Don't know if that checks out, but it's got my approval!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night and not try crawling into bed with me. For the sixth fucking time."

NP unloaded the van and put everything together in the spare room. Tuffy helped with the arrangements, pointing out what went where. Negaduck, on the other hand, lounged on the sofa, relaxing.

An hour later, Tuffy's room was finished. It also happened to be the cleanest room in the house, too. 

"This isn't a dino-dragon," NP said, hanging up a wind chime. It was made of glass that shimmered like diamonds in the light, a variety of feathers, painted scales, and crystal fragments.

"Splatter made it for some reason," Negaduck blanched. "Throw it out."

"No! I want to keep it!" Tuffy insisted. She tugged on Negaduck's jacket, whipping out the puppy dog eyes again. "Please please please?"

Negaduck choked down the bile. "FFfine, whatever."

\----

"Once y'told me her uncle didn't let her watch TV or read comic books, I ran out an' robbed a whole store t'get her some."

"Did she tell you she wasn't allowed to eat junk food?"

NP teared up. "... Oh... Oh God..." he practically mouthed, too upset.

Negaduck looked at Tuffy's closed bedroom door. She was inside, practically glued to the TV watching cartoons, a googly-eyed spinosaurus plushie clutched to her chest. "That'll keep her quiet and happy for a few hours," he said.

"Yeah! Awesome!"

"Nice an' out of my feath--"

"Let's screw on the sofa."

"Took you fuckin' long enough."

\---

## PART 7

##  \---

The Fearsome Five were back in business.

After weeks of planning, the group would hit the largest bank in St. Canard. It was in the middle of the city, at its very heart, where so many St. Canardians crossed the busy streets day in and day out. It would be a dangerous job, but FOWL had kept their promises and provided them with new and improved weapons.

"Now, what did I tell you."

Tuffy spread the napkin over her striped blue and black shirt. "Stay inside. Don't go outside."

Negaduck dropped three slices of pizza on Tuffy's plate before depositing the rest of the pie on the table. "And why don't you go outside?"

"There's bad people outside. The yard is too messy. There's spiders and ticks and poison ivy. There's also mouths made of metal with sharp teeth that bite you when you step on them. And fireworks hidden in the ground that will burn your feathers off."

"Right," Negaduck said, "and what do we never, ever do?"

Tuffy delicately cut up her pizza. "Never, ever try to pick or break the locks on the secret room or your bedroom."

"And?"

"Play with the dangerous weapons."

"Except for?"

"The slingshot and pellets. I'm really good at firing it now!" Before Negaduck could ask another question, she said, "And if anyone comes, especially that evil twin, I run and hide!"

"Good little gremlin," Negaduck snorted, patting her on the head. "We'll be back later. Stay up as long as you want, I don't give a fuck."

"Uncle Negaduck."

Negaduck looked down at Tuffy. "What?"

Tuffy shifted in her seat. "Um... I don't want to make you mad or anything, but... You said you'd get me a doll last week." She tapped her fingers together. "Also, Namazu needs fish flakes."

Negaduck exhaled, low and loud. "I'm busy. You got enough toys for now, and just feed one of the rats to Namazu."

"No! What if she dies?"

"Then feed her to the other rats."

"Uncle Negaduck!"

"Then I'm--"

Tuffy lunged onto Negaduck, hugging him tightly around the waist. Negaduck flinched, frozen in place. "I'm sorry I called you a pegasus that one time," she apologized, "you're more like a phoenix. You came out from the fire, and you're yellow and red like fire, too, and black like the ashes. And you're a bird!"

Negaduck widened his eyes.

Tuffy nuzzled against Negaduck. "See you later, Uncle Negaduck," she giggled, letting him go, "I love you! Tell Uncle NP and Aunt Splat and Aunt Cammy and Friend B I love them too and everyone be safe!"

Negaduck cleared his throat. "Yeah. Uh... Bye." He walked to the door, stopped to look back at Tuffy. She was at the table, cutting up her pizza and reading a comic book. Negaduck frowned, shutting the door behind him.

"Assumin' we get caught or somethin'," NP said, meeting up with Negaduck outside, "what's Tuffy gonna do?"

Negaduck put on his new hat. "If she's anything like someone I know," he said, sitting in the passenger seat of their armored, weaponized, black van, "she'll survive."

\----

The Fearsome Five waited in the car in the bank's parking lot, putting on their new armor as well as gas masks. They loaded up their weapons, did a quick briefing of the plan again, then went to work.

The money vaults on the bottom floor were to be handled by the other four. Negaduck had his eye on a much bigger prize: there was a secret vault containing a precious treasure Mrs. Howell had brought back to St. Canard from her trip in South America. An emerald the size of a duckling's head, eyes carved into the glistening surface.

The Mystic Eye of Quackzalcoatl was priceless, and even FOWL was slobbering at the bit to get their hands on it. While they hired the Fearsome Five to retrieve the artifact and provided them with their new gadgets, they also promised back-up, should they need it, from their agents in the police force as well as those working the field.

Negaduck heard the Eye had magical powers, but what these powers could do remained a mystery. It was an enticing little morsel for any hardcore criminal. Negaduck was no different--in fact, he wasn't quite sure he'd be willing to part with the Eye once he had it in his hands.

But that's what made it so fun. Who knew how this would play out after the show was over.

Phantom B had taken care of the security guards, disarming and levitating them in the air. Splatter painted ropes and gags on all the hostages. Earlier that week, Camille had gone through a number of disguises of various bank employees, collecting valuable information, such as codes and keys to unlocking the vaults and doors. NP threw on a guard's outfit while Camille transformed into one of the tellers; they went to the manager's office, pretending to evacuate him to safety, only to lead him down with the rest of the hostages.

Negaduck could handle security on his own while heading upstairs. The Eye was located on the top floor, heavily guarded before its transfer later that week. By the time Negaduck got to the floor, the guards had gotten the news and were waiting, all their guns and tasers pointed at Negaduck as the doors opened.

Negaduck pulled the gask mask over his face, popped the single hand-sized metal orb from his belt. As four officers charged, he hit the CLOSE DOORS button and threw the ball out. The doors shut just as gas exploded in the room. Ambient jazz music played overhead as Negaduck tapped his foot, checking his watch.

Just one more minute and... there. Negaduck opened the doors and walked out. The gas was still heavy in the air but all the security guards had been knocked out. Negaduck shot open the nearest windows, almost instantly clearing the floor.

According to FOWL, the sleeping gas would last up to a half hour. Negaduck tested it on some of NP's thugs to confirm. However, those who were sick, elderly, or suffered from heart conditions had a higher chance of dying from exposure to the gas. And there were a couple of those looking fellows among them.

Too bad. Negaduck would have just killed them, but the sleeping gas worked much faster. Still, he did take a mega-taser for a trophy. As he made his way to the vault, Camille radioed him: while the four had packed up a good deal of money and goods in the car, Launchpad and a horde of police officers suddenly showed up.

Negaduck figured such, as did the others. If the sleeping gas was any indication, at least half of the back-up would be helping his team. Negaduck took off his gas mask, staring up at the vault. He punched in a code, opening the first door; he typed in a second code to the third door. He used a fingerprint from the manager Camille lifted to open the fourth. Two more codes, three picked locks, and one ancient riddle solved later, the last door opened, Negaduck catching a bright green glimmer in the corner of his eye.

Just as Negaduck expected to find the Mystic Eye of Quackzalcoatl inside, Darkwing Duck was waiting as well, standing behind the pillar holding the gem, hands placed protectively over its plexiglass casing.

"I would have thought you'd strike a little earlier," Darkwing said, "you've been getting more and more risky these days."

"How long were you waiting for me, Dipwing?" Negaduck laughed. "Musta been hours! Days? Please tell me at _least_ a week! Where's your bucket?"

"You might as well give up now, Negaduck," Darkwing said, eyes narrowed. "This Eye is a fake, a decoy."

"Oh, I figured that. Gotta give my new friends some credit, though," Negaduck smirked, studying his fingertips. "They're the reason why the real and fake Eyes were never swapped."

Darkwing jerked upright. "What are you saying?"

"The agents who made the exchange," Negaduck said, "aren't exactly on your team, Darkwimp. Suppose too many eyes risked exposing them, so they could only do the pretend swap as you and the other dumbasses watched on."

"You're lying. How would you--"

"You got your own super secret agency," Negaduck said, wiggling his fingers at the duck in purple, "and I got mine. Unfortunately for you, my posse got here before yours."

"There's no way you'd know if this was the fake or real Eye!" Darkwing snapped. "They're virtually iden--"

Negaduck flashed a special light on the gem, revealing hidden words: ALL OUR LOVE - SB. "The kids left me a nice little note, too," he cooed, "how thoughtful of them."

"This can't--"

"You should know that just because two things look exactly alike doesn't mean they're the same," Negaduck spat, producing his gas gun, "isn't that right, Darkwing Duck?"

Darkwing sighed. "That may be true." He kicked the pillar. "But you're still not taking the Eye, Negaduck." The plate beneath the Eye opened up, swallowing the gem.

Negaduck shrieked. "What'd you-- Where'd it--"

"Somewhere you can't reach it!" Darkwing shouted, pouncing on his enemy.

The two rolled along the floor, Darkwing landing on top of Negaduck. Negaduck raised his gas gun, pulled the trigger. Darkwing knocked it from his hand, a small trail of gas following the gun out a broken window.

Negaduck snarled, headbutting Darkwing and throwing him off. He grabbed Darkwing by his jacket, picked him up and slugged him in the face. He got in a second punch, but Darkwing grabbed his arm before he landed a third. Negaduck cried out, arm twisted painfully; he was thrown over Darkwing's shoulder, back landing hard on the tiled floor.

Negaduck yanked his arm free, flipping into a handstand and kicking both feet in Darkwing's face. Darkwing stumbled, shaking off the daze. He grabbed his tranquilizer gun, fired a dart in Negaduck's chest.

Negaduck looked at the dart, aghast. He moaned, eyes lidded; he started to sway, falling to a knee. Darkwing approached him cautiously, gun remaining cocked.

Negaduck tackled Darkwing around the legs, knocking him over. The gun fell from his hand. 

Negaduck yanked the dart out. "Padding, ya knob," he snorted. He staggered onto his feet, picking up the dart gun. Negaduck fired twice; Darkwing rolled away from the first, raised his arm to dodge the second.

"Just stay still, you dunce!" Negaduck barked. He fired a third dart, puncturing Darkwing's knee. Negaduck cackled, showing his deadly teeth. "Nighty night, loser!"

Darkwing removed the dart. "You really think I wouldn't build up an immunity to my own drugs?" he said. "Or give myself a counteractive shot earlier?"

Negaduck gaped. "What!"

Darkwing spun in the air, kicking the gun from Negaduck's hand; he spun a second time, this time hitting Negaduck upside the beak. Negaduck coughed, spitting up a few beads of blood. He regained his balance, stopping Darkwing's fist, once, twice--jumped just in time before the younger duck could kick his feet out from under him.

As the two pounced and tumbled around the room, static burst from Negaduck's fallen walkie talkie. 

_"Negaduck! Thisss isss Camille! Launchpad isss here, but no Darkwing! Policcce came, but a few of the copsss knocked them out! Are they the FOWL agentsss?"_

"Hear that, Dorkwing?" Negaduck guffawed, wiping blood from his face. "Not even your buddies at the SCPD can help you."

"You're so busy overestimating yourself, you underestimate everyone else around you!" Darkwing snapped.

Negaduck growled, rolling his eyes. "Don't give me that shit about hubris again." As soon as Darkwing Duck was close, Negaduck shoved the sparking mega-taser in his stomach. Darkwing's bones rattled as he convulsed, electricity shooting through his body. "What? No more nuggets of wisdom?" Negaduck snickered, switching the taser to full power. "Duck got yer tongue, Dr--"

Darkwing's stiff arms shot out, grabbing Negaduck by the shoulders. Negaduck squealed as bolts of electricity flooded him instantly, smoke sizzling from both their clothes. Negaduck broke free, dropping the taser. The two slumped, leaning against one another, breathing, twitching, feathers puffed and fluffed. Then Darkwing kneed Negaduck in the gut.

_"It'ssss Camille again! Ssseemssss thingsss are going our way! Launchpad essscaped, but ssstill no Darkwing! The FOWL agentsss are helping usss load the essscape van, but sssome of them want to come up and ssssee if you got the Eye! Should I sssend them up?"_

Negaduck threw Darkwing against the wall, pinning him there with an arm against his throat. "Say, Drakey," Negaduck sneered, one eyelid still twitching from the electrocution, "you haven't asked me about that kid I took yet. Don't ya wanna know what happened to her?"

Darkwing gagged, clawing at the arm. Negaduck slowly lifted him up, until the edges of Darkwing's webbed toes were barely scraping the ground.

"What do you think happened to her, huh? You think I killed her? Think I drowned her in the sewer? Bet you looked through all that muck for days, just in case you found a body. Or, maybe, just maybe, you found out about her uncle. Who do you think took care of him? Well, why aren't you answering? C'mon, Drakey, I'm trying to have a conversation here!"

Darkwing spit in Negaduck's face.

Negaduck laughed, adding pressure to the wheezing duck's throat. "Now that was just nasty," he said, "I'm touch-- Oh, shit, what the fu--" Negaduck dropped Darkwing, reeling back and clawing at his face. It suddenly itched like crazy, almost a burning sensation.

"A little gift... from my friends..." Darkwing rasped, rubbing his throat. "Don't worry, though... The itching... fades after... an hour or two..."

"You have fuckin' weaponized spit capsules?" Negaduck roared, scratching his face and tearing out feathers, "now that's just fuckin' too far!"

"I have an antidote for that as well," Darkwing said, straightening up. "If you want it, tell me where Tuffy Swansong is."

"How the He--owowowow! Shit!"

"Tell me, and I'll make it stop!"

Negaduck ground his face against the corner of a desk. "I'm going to rip off your face and wear it as a trophy, you asshole!"

Darkwing's head snapped back. "Well," he said, surprised, "that's new."

_"Sssso... The agentsss are getting annoyed. They sssaid they'll wait for your resssponssse for another two minutesss. If you don't give them the go 'head, they're jussst gonna come up anyway. Clock'sss ticking, bosss."_

"You so worried about my hostage, huh?" Negaduck laughed breathlessly. "Well, how about we change that up." He reached for the nearest guard's head.

Darkwing recoiled, looked up. He grabbed the taser, switched it on, and threw it at one of the overhead lights. The current blew out the bulb, then the next and the next, until the entire room was almost completely dark, save the lights from the buildings outside.

Negaduck stepped back, head whipping around, trying to spot his nemesis. But the darkness--

"Yah!"

Negaduck quacked, kicked in the jaw and thrown to the ground. He swung for what he thought was Darkwing, but with a flicker of his cape, he was gone again. Negaduck panted, backing away toward the window showing the most light.

"Tell me where the child is, Negaduck."

Negaduck fumbled for his special flashlight, but a sudden white hand reached out in front of him, knocking his head back against the wall. Negaduck screeched and fell over; he slashed a knife blindly in the air, panting.

"You... You can't..."

"You said it yourself, Negaduck."

Negaduck heaved, searching his belt for any weapons. A throwing dagger, his chainsaw, just needed--

"Darkwing Duck _is_ the darkness."

Negaduck screamed as he was kicked out the broken window, a shadow swiftly following after him.

_"Well, uh, the agentsss are heading upssstairsss now. NP hasss left with the firssst load. We're almossst done filling our car. Isss... everything okay?"_

Negaduck was falling, passing almost four floors before a grappling hook and rope wrapped around his ankle. He wailed as he was thrown up, up, up-- Negaduck hit the rooftop face first, skidding across the surface. While it left quite a lot of nasty scratches and a bruised bill, it did help with the itching a little.

Negaduck flipped onto his back, removing the rope from his leg. He stood up, wiping gravel from his face. At least it was brighter up here; the Central St. Canard jumbotron was right next door, casting flashing neon lights across the rooftop.

"Come out, Dipwing!" Negaduck shouted, turning in circles, eyes darting everywhere. "This fight is far from over!" He only had his one throwing knife in his coat. His chainsaw had fallen from his pack, across the roof.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night..."

Negaduck jumped, purple gas forming into a tall, expanding funnel five feet away. He stared up at the massive formation, awed.

"I am the bandaid ripped from the infected wound of crime!"

" _Isn't it a little too late to be doing this shit_?" Negaduck shrieked, voice coming out as a strained, broken whine.

"I am... Darkwing Duck!"

The funnel exploded, gas sweeping across the roof and knocking Negaduck over like a harsh wind.

Darkwing parted his cape. "I didn't get the chance to do it the first time," he tsked.

"Yer really gettin' on my last nerve, Deadmeat," Negaduck growled, picking up his chainsaw. It came alive with a horrible snarl, muffling Negaduck's ferocious cackling. "Come on! I'm gonna make me some minced duck meat stew!"

"Cannibalism now, Negaduck?" Darkwing scoffed, removing what appeared to be just a sword hilt with guard and pommel. "Why am I not surprised?" He slashed it to the side, the hilt generating a curved blade of vibrant purple energy.

"Wh--Oh." Negaduck's surprise instantly died. "Actually, that doodad looks a little familiar..." The corners of his twisted grin curled. "No matter. Tonight we discover the long sought out answer." Negaduck revved the saw. "What is mightier: the chainsaw, or the glow stick?"

Negaduck ran at Darkwing first, both their weapons clashing. Light sparked off the sword, the sawblades unable to penetrate the hard, solid energy. 

Darkwing pulled back, brought his sword down, cutting off a couple metal teeth. Negaduck knocked the blade aside, thrusting the saw for Darkwing's chest. Darkwing curled away; he thrashed the sword down on the saw, loosening Negaduck's grip.

Negaduck regained hold as the sword slashed against its silver surface. Sparks and tissue thin shreds of metal peeled off. Negaduck roared alongside the rattling and buzzing machine, pushing up against the sword. It successfully cut through the blade, but did not break it. The sword simply shrank a few inches.

"Been taking fencing lessons, Drakey?" Negaduck snickered, shoving sword off saw. He leaped, bringing the chainsaw down, clipping through the edge of the superhero's hat. "Nice. But I covered that field years ago, kid."

"It's hardly fencing when you're using a chainsaw," Darkwing jeered. Their weapons met, struck, withdrew; over and over again. Darkwing took a quick opening, grazing Negaduck's side, cutting through jacket and shirt. A tickle of electricity shot through Negaduck's hip, feathers poofing up.

"You really think that 'sword' meets regulations, prick?" Negaduck spat. He stabbed the saw forward, hit the blade's hilt. Almost took one of Darkwing's fingers. The blade flickered, stabilized, knocked down another two inches.

"Enough chatting, Negaduck," Darkwing snapped, "let's finish this, once and for all!"

Chainsaw and blade clashed together. The two were locked in position, each trying to overpower the other, chainsaw bearing down on Darkwing, blade of energy forcing it back toward Negaduck. Their arms strained against the pressure and weight. Negaduck could feel the blade's heat on his face. Darkwing felt the rushing air of the saw's teeth near his beak, starting to smoke.

Energy consumed the chainsaw blades, electricity popping from the surface, shocking Negaduck's hands. With a flash of light, the saw's engine died, the chain coming to a sluggish halt. Negaduck stared at his weapon, bewildered.

Darkwing slammed the hard pommel of his sword into Negaduck's wrist. Another bolt of electricity; Negaduck yelped, dropping the saw. Darkwing kicked it away, swiftly placed the tip of the energy blade under Negaduck's bill.

Negaduck swallowed, sweating.

"Now," Darkwing breathed, "hands above your head."

Negaduck's heart pounded against his rib cage. A mix of adrenaline, excitement, but mostly fury. An unfamiliar rage, however. Negaduck met Darkwing's eyes, and in the light of the blade and jumbotron, he could really see the scars he'd left on the hero's face. The cracks in his beak, the jagged line running from the corner of his mouth, always giving him a lopsided smile.

Negaduck raised his hands slowly--and grabbed the blade. It wasn't entirely as painful and sharp as being electrocuted, but nonetheless it stung every nerve and boiled his blood. Negaduck held the sword in both hands, squeezing and drawing it closer to his throat.

"What are you doing!" Darkwing cried.

"Cah--mm 'n Dar," Negaduck stammered, teeth clenched together until back molars started cracking, "ki' m."

Darkwing shook his head, snarling; he switched off the sword, the blade disappearing in a wink of light. 

Negaduck wheezed, stumbled, but did not fall. He stepped back, muscles spasming. He raised his twitching head. "Knew... couldn't..." he coughed, burned tongue running along his teeth. "Probably... not even... l-l-l-l--" Negaduck punched himself in the face, blinked a few times. "... Lethal. Better."

Negaduck shrieked as three cans of tear spray hit him from above. Darkwing jumped back, just as surprised, cape covering his face. It was one of the police helicopters, two officers hanging out the side with launchers in hands.

"Don't!" Darkwing shouted, his voice silenced by the helicopter's blades. "Let me--"

A dagger flew from the cloud of blue gas, stabbing an officer in the arm. The officer yelped, dropping the launcher on the roof.

Negaduck was on it before Darkwing could even take one step. Negaduck turned the launcher on the helicopter, firing at both the blades and windshield. Only a couple hits landed, his eyes stinging and blurry with tears. The copter reeled back, steering blindly off to the side.

Darkwing clobbered Negaduck before he could empty the launcher. The launcher was thrown in the air, bounced off the edge, and disappeared. The copter flew out of the gas clouds, retreating.

Negaduck picked Darkwing off the ground and threw him. Darkwing landed on his hands, flipped up onto his feet; he twisted around, cape streaking around his chest.

Negaduck was heaving and shaking. His suit was dirtied and ripped in places, splotches of white feathers smudged gray and standing erect from the electric shock. Tears continued spilling from his bloodshot eyes, but it did not seem to stop him.

"Negaduck," Darkwing said, "enough. Let's just--"

Negaduck gave a banshee scream and ran at him.

By now, the rest of the Fearsome Five had fled. Camille and Splatter made their getaway while Phantom B and a couple masked FOWL agents kept the police at bay a while longer. NP had lost the cars tailing him, hanging in the back of a parking lot full of buses, vans, and other such large vehicles until everything was clear.

Negaduck, however, didn't care if he managed to escape, too.

He wasn't sure exactly what made him so angry, fighting Darkwing tonight. Sure, he was always angry, but there was always something fun in these battles, some gleeful element of surprise. Yet, right now, it felt... wrong. Darkwing had gotten under his skin. What had changed? Before he was emotionally bulletproof. Before he had no reason to be concerned, so desperate to escape, so threatened by this mallard's presence.

What was there in Negaduck's life that made him forget this was all a game? A game he never intended on losing.

Negaduck wrestled Darkwing onto the ground, a hand pushing down against his ribs. "Just die! You should _just die_!" he yelled, and no matter how many times Darkwing saw those delirious eyes and bared sharp teeth, his body went cold. "Sick and tired--sick and tired of _Darkwing Duck_! _Why won't you leave me alone_?"

Darkwing breathed carefully. "Listen... listen to me. I know you can never forgive me. I know you want to kill me. And I know... I know you just want to let go. Of him."

Negaduck's mouth dropped open, eyes still as wild but expression clearly confused.

"You were Darkwing Duck for so long. You couldn't live as anyone else. You couldn't stand a life where you weren't loved and adored. Where you weren't the center of attention. I... I rekindled something in you, something awful and bad."

"You... don't know..."

"You almost had it all back. I know, I understand. And when you realized you weren't Darkwing Duck, you became something new. Something that would give you that power back. And you needed a Darkwing Duck to do it. A Darkwing Duck you could kill once and for all, because in the end, you're still in his shadow--"

" _Shut up_!" Negaduck yelled, pressing down on Darkwing's rib cage. "You're so damn--"

"Jim's still in there. Jim's not as quiet and boring and hopeless as you thought!" Darkwing heaved uncomfortably, fighting the pressure on his chest. "Whatever change you're going through, it's somehow bringing you back to reality. And you want it to end, don't you? You're not having fun anymore, because Jim won't leave you alone!"

"I haven't changed!" Negaduck bellowed.

NP took another escape route back to one of the nearest bases. As he started down the road, he abruptly hit the brakes. He rolled down the window, sticking his head out. He had stopped by an electronics store, various fancy TVs in the window, all playing one thing--

"Bossss!" Camille shouted into the walkie talkie, looking at her phone. "Bossss, you're on TV! You're live! On every ssstation!"

Negaduck pushed himself off Darkwing Duck, retrieving his chainsaw. It didn't need to work to tear Darkwing Duck into chunks. "It's over when I say it's over!" Negaduck yelled, raising the saw above his head.

Darkwing scrambled up, then went still, eyes darting off to the side.

Negaduck paused, annoyed by the shift of attention. "What are you--"

"Jim. Look at the jumbotron."

Negaduck laughed bitterly. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot, yo--" Nonetheless, he chanced a quick glance up, back down. It took a moment for him to register what he'd seen, blinking away tears. The sound of the news helicopters suddenly grew louder in his ears, hovering a safe distance from above. 

Negaduck lifted his head, and from his clear view of Central St. Canard, Negaduck saw himself on the massive jumbotron. His dirty and torn suit, the chainsaw above his head, the wide-eyed expression on his face. Every little detail.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

Negaduck was front and center on the screen. On all the screens currently playing on every news station on TV and streaming sites. If this was live, broadcast throughout St. Canard, possibly Duckburg as well--

Millions of eyes were on Negaduck. His face on millions of screens.

Negaduck slowly smiled. "... Yes," he said softly, shaking. "Oh, yes." He dropped the chainsaw. Negaduck spread his arms, welcoming all those hungry eyes. "They're all watching me. They're watching my show."

"And this is the finale, Jim."

Negaduck yelped as Darkwing Duck bowled into him, both ducks rolling toward the edge. Darkwing managed to throw himself back safely, pushing his hat up from his face.

"H-Help! Help!"

Darkwing leapt to his feet. Negaduck hung over the side of the building, fingers clawing and slipping on the gravel. "I-- I can't die! It's not--it's not over yet! Y-You're the hero--you have to save me!" Negaduck choked, hyperventilating. "D-Darkwing Duck doesn't k-kill his enemies!"

"Hold on!" Darkwing cried, grabbing Negaduck's hands. As he started hauling Negaduck back onto the roof, the villain gave a low, rumbling laugh. Darkwing opened his eyes, and Negaduck was cackling, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and pulling.

"You're the one who's going to fall!" Negaduck guffawed, the noise piercing Darkwing's ears. "I'll take you with me, if I have to!" He tore into Darkwing's jacket. "I'll use your body to break my--" Negaduck felt something fuzzy, something like yarn. He clawed it out of Darkwing's jacket.

"Don't!" Darkwing cried.

Negaduck opened his hand. It was... a doll. Handmade from yarn. A red-haired duckling wearing a purple shirt made from silk.

"Please," Darkwing whispered, "please... don't drop that. I know... I know you don't care, but it... she protects me." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Opened them again. His face pleading and crestfallen. "So, please... don't let her go."

Negaduck blinked, head slowly tilting. The glaze left his eyes, as the fog started to lift. Clarity slowly returned, a feeling he'd lost long ago.

This doll was... cute. Ugly, but cute, which was ugly in itself. Didn't Tuffy ask for a doll? He did say he'd get her one weeks ago. Why hadn't he--

"DW!" Launchpad shouted into his mega-phone, the Thunderquack hovering nearby. "You okay?"

Negaduck turned his head. He could clearly see himself in the Thunderquack windshield. In the show, the Thunderquack only had one seat--for its pilot, Darkwing Duck. It was funny, somewhat, seeing his reflection almost sitting perfectly in the spot where that old seat used to be.

"Sorry it took me so long! Air traffic's outta control and I accidentally--"

"Jim!" Darkwing yelped, heart in his throat as Negaduck turned his hand over, dropping the doll.

Right on the rooftop beside Darkwing Duck.

"Next time."

Darkwing looked back at Negaduck, alarmed, tears in his eyes. Negaduck smiled, but it wasn't deranged, wicked, vile. It was more... tired.

"I still got a doll and fish flakes to steal."

Negaduck shoved Darkwing Duck back, breaking loose from his hands. The whole wide world watched as Negaduck plummeted from the roof.

NP jumped out of the van, throwing his hands on the store window. "Negs!" he yelled, beating the glass until it started to crack. "You idiot!"

" _Jim_!" Darkwing screamed. He ran across the rooftop, picked up his grappling gun. By the time he returned, he could no longer see Negaduck. " _Jim_!"

Launchpad attempted to pursue the falling duck, but it was too narrow for the ship to fit through. He ejected the front parachutes from the Thunderquack's bill, but they just collapsed like deflating balloons.

Darkwing stood on the edge of the building, his head light and body as heavy as lead. There was nothing he could say. He looked down, spotting the doll on the ground. He quietly picked it up, and tucked it back near his heart.

\----

They never did find the body. For weeks, Negaduck's face appeared in the news. Just as frequently as before, but reporting him missing after his rooftop battle with Darkwing Duck. A number of people were too scared to voice their relief, but a couple brave outspoken souls openly hoped he was dead and gone for good.

\---

## EPILOGUE

##  \---

The Fearsome Fi... Four sat around the usual table in the abandoned factory. They stared at the single empty head chair--their leader's seat.

"It'sss been... one month," Camille murmured, peeling the corners off her papers.

"I don't know why we haven't disbanded yet," Splatter sighed. "Our creative vision has been lost. We are blinded now."

Phantom B tapped their staff lightly.

"No! We shouldn't break up the group!" Camille protested. "We need to ssstick together! It'sss what Negaduck would want!"

Splatter chortled bitterly. "What Negaduck would have wanted is one of us falling in his--"

"Show some respect fer the dead, will ya?" NP snapped.

Splatter averted her guilty gaze.

"If anything," NP mumbled, took a deep breath, "Negs would want us t'go on. Fight hard an' do evil in his honor. And that's why I brought ya all these files." He held up a pile of paper. "S'all the future heists Negs wanted t'pull off before he..."

Phantom B tapped their staff three times.

"Ssstreet pizzza? Geezzz, Phantom!"

"I dinnit hear that," NP growled. "Anyway. There's lotsa good ideas in here. Surely we can find one or two jus' the four of us can pull off."

"I sssecond the notion!"

Splatter yawned. "I do need the money."

Phantom B nodded.

NP shuffled through the papers. "Oh! What about this one? We get to steal a cursed amulet! That sounds exciting, right?"

"Not if it'sss cursssed..." Camille mumbled.

"There's this one about hunting down Gizmoduck. Seems a bit... complicated and convoluted. A lot of reading. I'm a girl who prefers visuals, honestly."

"Phantom, you find one ya like?"

Phantom B shook their head.

"There'sss gotta be sssomething in here we can do easssily enough!" Camille insisted, sifting through page after page desperately.

"Try Heist 14: the Queen Aviary, you dullards."

NP groaned. "Robbing the royal Doubloon jewels from that old stationary ship?"

"Oh, yes. The one that's permanently fixed to the docks. It's a hotel now. I heard it has quite a lovely collection of art pieces from the 1800s."

"I heard it'sss haunted!"

"Since when did you idiots get so scared of ghosts?"

"I ain't scared of no ghosts, Negs," NP scowled, "I jus' don't think it'll be that f--"

Splatter fell from her chair. Camille screamed, transforming into a trembling chihuahua. NP's jaw dropped, practically hitting the ground. Phantom B scratched their head with the end of their staff.

Two figures stood in the darkness, the build and stature of one hauntingly familiar.

NP jumped to his feet, shoving his jaw back into place. "N... Negs? Is that... is that..." he stammered.

The small mallard hobbled into the light, a patch over his left eye, right leg bandaged up. "Why, NP," Negaduck smirked, showing a few fangs, "it looks like you've seen a ghost." The rottweiler at his side barked at the group, hot slobber flying from its jowls. "Down, Mutt." Negaduck tugged on her studded collar.

"We we we we thought you were dead!" Camille squealed, growing back to her regular size.

"FOWL upgraded my cape to use as a parachute. Damn thing didn't open as early as it should've, the fuckers, but a dumpster truck just so happened to be driving by. It contained garbage from a kindergarten, so all the used diapers provided wonderful cushioning," Negaduck explained, a corner of his smile twitching.

"And you... have a dog now?" Splatter asked.

"I was thrown into the dump with the rest of the trash. When I woke up, this little bitch was gnawing on my leg," Negaduck explained, patting the snarling dog on the head. "We've been best friends ever since. She's the one who brought me food and kept me warm while my leg healed."

NP sniffled. "Oh, Negs... You have no idea how lost we were without you! We're like, kinda dumb."

Camille stamped a foot. "Ssspeak for yourssself."

"I figured you'd have blown yourselves up by now, or gotten thrown into jail," Negaduck snorted, limping over. Mutt followed closely, helping to support the duck. "Besides, I have unfinished business."

Negaduck opened his jacket. He placed a bottle of goldfish flakes and a cute blonde duckling doll wearing a strawberry dress on the table. He squinted his one eye at NP. "You think she'll like a dog, too?"

"Oh, Negs!" NP sobbed and picked Negaduck up into a big bear hug.

"P-Put me--"

"We're ssso glad you're back!" Camille cried, joining the embrace.

"We could really use your talents again," Splatter said, smiling sheepishly. She jumped on NP's back, wrapping her arms around the three.

Phantom B appeared beside the group, tapping their staff. Mutt barked and lunged at it. Phantom B didn't seem to mind, coiling long, inky tendrils around the four.

"Fuckin'--put me down!" Negaduck screamed, squirming in his team's arms. "I'm going to kill you all!"


End file.
